The Most Wonderful Time of the Year
by Natalie Rushman
Summary: 'Twas two weeks before Christmas/ Quiet snow filled the air/ Down the halls of Stark Tower/ Strolled our depressed billionaire. OR. In which Tony Stark gets the band back together. Except they're not a band; they're a team. And they're not really a team. They're a family. ...Or they will be.
1. Go Tell it on the Mountain

**I.**

For the fifth time since 16:30 – when this meeting had been convened and was, incidentally, only six minutes ago – Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes' cell phone rang.

Secretary Ross gave him a pointed look. "It's Stark, isn't it?"

James Rhodes didn't quite lift his head. "Yes, it is."

"What," the Secretary of State leaned his elbows on the podium, "the _Hell_ does he want, Colonel?"

"I don't know, Mr. Secretary," Rhodes answered lowly, "It's been several weeks since my last communication with Mr. Stark."

The phone began ringing a _sixth_ time.

"Well for the love of God communicate with him now!"

Pressing the door closed behind him Rhodey put the phone to his ear, "Whatever this is, Tony," he said, "It had better be good."

 _"It's not."_ Tony said blithely, _"What you up to? Something fun, I hope?"_

"Damn it, Tony," Rhodey hissed, side-stepping an intern. "I'm in a meeting."

 _"You…can't be serious."_

"Yes. Yes Tony. I can be serious," he said. He shut the empty conference room door behind him. "You know what? This is the definition of serious. You know who I'm supposed to be meeting with? Right now?"

Tony sighed. _"Well, I'm guessing not Santa Clause. He usually makes people happy."_

"No. It's the _Secretary of State_ , Tony. Secretary Ross. About last time."

 _"Last time?"_

"Yes, last time Tony."

 _"Wait…should I…remember 'last time'? Cause I'm drawing a pretty profound blank in that area…"_

"Yes. You should remember 'last time', Tony. I have been working my _ass_ off trying to clean up the mess you've got yourself into –"

 _"Don't do that Rhodes, you have a nice ass."_

"Damn it, Tony! Do you have _any idea_ what kind of situation you'd be in _right now_ if it wasn't for what I'm doing for you?"

 _"I'm guessing a 'thank you' and some flowers isn't gonna cut it?"_

"Not even the tip of the iceberg."

" _Noted."_

"I've got things to do _besides_ picking up after the Avengers, Tony."

 _"Hey –"_

" _Now_ what is it?" Rhodey asked, "Need your diaper changed?"

There was a long silence on the other end of the line.

 _"I'm gonna let the insensitivity of that last remark slide."_ Tony finally said, _"And – you –"_ he re-adjusted, _"You're_ part _of the Avengers now, you_ do _realize that?"_

Folding his arm across his chest Rhodey said, "Uh-huh."

" _Okay. Good. I mean, I'd kinda hope so, at this point. Come on, the wedding's over –"_

"The point, Tony?"

" _And the honeymoon too, apparently. Speaking of diapers, and honeymoons, I've got a nut for you to ponder."_

"Really, Tony?" Rhodey pressed the bridge of his nose. "Thanks. Thank you for that."

"'Chestnuts roasting on an open fire'… _Not necessary. What're friends for if not to…mentally…scar you. What should I get Pepper for Christmas this year?"_

Rhodey lowered the phone, "You've gotta be kidding me," he muttered. Then he recalled to whom he was speaking and their long history together, and he recovered himself, lifting the device back to his ear.

"… _rabbit last year was a flop."_

"Yeah?" he asked dryly, "Is that the sound it made when it landed in the Pacific?"

" _That's the last time I take advice from a drunk…And that's not nice."_

"Neither was giving the entire world your home address. How'd Pepper like that last Christmas?"

" _Okay, that was_ one time _!"_ Tony scoffed. _"Guess who didn't take their vitamins this morning. Have you been to the doctor recently? I think you must be coming down with something. You're not usually this…crabby. I was just looking for suggestions."_

"I don't have time for this, Tony."

" _So this is it? After all those years of telling me I didn't have to do this alone?"_

"That was about _world safety_ , Tony. Not _Christmas presents_!"

" _I don't see a difference_."

Rhodey stopped pacing. "You can't be serious."

" _Okay,"_ Tony said. _"Okay, fine. I get it. Eventually the kids gotta grow up, go to college, break up the band for good… They always_ say _they'll get back together, but we all know how that goes…"_

"Look, Tony, not today," Rhodey pressed the bridge of his nose, "Okay? I've got things to do."

" _Maybe I'll buy her a farm by the base. You know, Upstate New York? Bet she'd like that. She and Mrs. Barton can be little farm-wives. She's been talking about getting away for a while now."_

"That is a _terrible_ idea."

" _Rhodey, Buddy, I am a_ generator _of bad ideas. It's not like Vision's any good at this now that he's been 'upgraded'. Usually I'd ask him, or Pepper, or…huh…"_

"Look, Tony, there are _other_ people in the world that you could ask. What about your Avenger friends? Try them for a change." Gaining momentum, Rhodey began to pace, "You know what?" he said, "Why don't you give Pepper _that_ for Christmas? Give Pepper a break. I'm sure she'd love that. Ponder _that_ nut."

 _"Mm. Nice. You know what? I just might."_

And the line went dead.

"Hello? Hello? Tony?" Closing his eyes, Rhodey set the phone on the table and shook his head. "This ain't gonna be good."

Standing, he put the phone back into his pocket, straightened his coat, and left, shutting the conference room door behind him.

 **II.**

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Tony Stark

Big Man

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Tony Stark

Hey, Jolly Green

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Tony Stark

Bruce

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Tony Stark

Bruce

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Tony Stark

BRUCE

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Tony Stark

Are you ignoring me?

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Jolly Green

…Hi.

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Tony Stark

After all we've been through, that's

all I get? Hi?

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Jolly Green

Im at work.

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Tony Stark

Got plans for the holidays?

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Jolly Green

No

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Jolly Green

Im gonna regret that, arnt I?

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Tony Stark

Nope

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Tony Stark

Because you're part of my plan

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Tony Stark

More of a scheme, if you will. My

Christmas Scheme.

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Tony Stark

I'm gonna make your Christmas

dreams come true.

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Jolly Green

Why do I suddenly feel sick to my stomach

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Tony Stark

Say no more. Your gratitude is

understood.

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Jolly Green

Thats not what I meant

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Tony Stark

Yeah, well, I edited you.

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Tony Stark

I'm bringing out your better side.

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Jolly Green

Heh. Sure.

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Tony Stark

That means you're in, right?

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Jolly Green

No

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Tony Stark

…I know where you live

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Jolly Green

You can't beat my roommate.

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Tony Stark

Aren't you supposed to be at work

right now?

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Tony Stark

Besides, I'm sure he's forgiven me

for last time.

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Tony Stark

Right?

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Jolly Green

What are we even talking about?

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Tony Stark

About? My…plans? Or…last time?

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Jolly Green

Your plans, Tony

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Tony Stark

Oh. Yeah. Thought you'd probably

remember the other one. YIKES.

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Tony Stark

We're arguing about your basic

constitutional right as an American adult

to plan your own activities. No worries.

You'll never miss it. You're coming to

spend Christmas at the Tower.

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Jolly Green

Avengers Tower?

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Tony Stark

Yep

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Jolly Green

…the day…?

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Tony Stark

The Season

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Jolly Green

The season?

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Tony Stark

Got your floor all set up for you.

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Jolly Green

Does Pepper know about this?

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Tony Stark

Said you liked it last time. 'It's real

nice, Tony,' if I remember. Get here

whenever you're out of work.

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Jolly Green

No promises

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Tony Stark

Sweet. See you then.

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Jolly Green

Why do I even bother

 **III.**

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Stark

Agent Romanoff

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Stark

Did you miss me?

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Stark

May I enquier as to the state of your

holiday plans?

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Mother of Evil

TBD. Why?

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Stark

Is Birdman with you?

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Mother of Evil

Mmm…who's asking?

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Stark

Handsome as Hell, billionaire prodigy,

Anthony Stark ;)

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Mother of Evil

Why not ask him yourself?

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Stark

You – of all people – should know

never to give the day-to-day particulars

of scheduling to a man. Normal modus

operandi would demand a wife be

contacted.

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Stark

Or a secretary.

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Stark

You…count.

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Stark

Somehow.

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Mother of Evil

…Well?

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Stark

…I expected you to ask more than that.

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Mother of Evil

Did you have a pertinent question, Stark?

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Stark

Yeah. Lost it in translation. Come to the

Tower. Bring a toothbrush.

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Girl on Fire

…why?

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Stark

Oh. You're here too.

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Mother of Evil

I showed him the text, former prodigy. I'm in ;)

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Fancy Pants

That was…too easy

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Girl on Fire

She likes Christmas

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Fancy Pants

That's…weird.

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Fancy Pants

How 'bout you, Everdeen?

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Girl on Fire

Everdeen?

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Fancy Pants

Katnis. Gosh. Don't you READ?

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Girl on Fire

Can't

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Fancy Pants

Can't. In this day and age. You can't

read. That explains some things.

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Girl on Fire

Family

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Fancy Pants

That one word has broken too many

hearts. Can't let it stop our love, Barton.

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Fancy Pants

Radio Silence is making me nervous.

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Fancy Pants

Talk to me, guys.

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Stark

GUYS?

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Mother of Evil

He's in.

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Stark

…Okay...?

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Stark

Does he need a medic?

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Mother of Evil

He's fine.

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Stark

…Can he tell me that himself…?

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Mother of Evil

No

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Mother of Evil

I stole his phone

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Stark

Two master assassins and you solve

your problems like children

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Mother of Evil

Really, Stark?

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Stark

I'm proud of you.

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Stark

Did you bite him this time?

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Mother of Evil

I usually go home with him on Holiday

Leave. I convinced him that we could

spend a few days with you first.

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Stark

How'd you swing that?

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Mother of Evil

Called in a favor and traded our tickets

for better ones.

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Fancy Pants

Well, isn't that just like a woman,

eh? ;)

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Fancy Pants

Did she bite you this time?

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Mother of Evil

He's sulking. He's a big baby.

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Fancy Pants

What she said

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Girl on Fire

Can it Stark, I had a quiet weekend planned

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Fancy Pants

I'll see you in ten, Legolas.

 **IV.**

NOW CALLING: Amber Waves of Grain

 _Stark, is this important?_

Um, how are _you_? How's _your_ day going?

 _Fine, Tony. What's going on?_

Hi. Nice to know I have a rep. I'm doing well, in case you were curious.

 _Stark, if you could get to the point…_

You got something better to do? I mean, for Pete's sake, you're over ninety-five years old. Most of your contemporaries are just happy to be playing _bingo_ in _nursing homes_ right now.

 _I'm sorry, Tony. That was un-called for. I'm just in the middle of some things right now. What's going on?_

Eh. I'll make you pay for it later. At my place.

 _Your place? You mean the Tower?_

Where…else… would I mean?

 _What's going on at the Tower, Tony?_

Do I detect a sigh? I really think I heard a sigh.

 _You want me to come by the Tower…?_

No. I want you to _stay_ at _my_ Tower. For Christmas.

 _Now? For Christmas? That's not for another two weeks._

Are you sure? I've – son of a gun – my paper chain really _is_ that long. Sure. Why not. Come on, Pops. Make a little tike's Christmas dream come true. Isn't – isn't that what keeps senior citizens _going_ through the holidays?

 _Heh. Very funny, Tony. …You invited Barton? And Romanoff?_

Yes. Wait. How did you – you don't have _spider-senses_ , do you? 'Cause that'd be weird. Is that what this is? America-senses?

 _No, Tony, Romanoff texted me._

You. Wait. You _text_?

 _Yes, Tony, I text._

You _text_? And you didn't _tell_ me?

 _Guess it slipped my mind._

How did _I_ slip your mind? How long has this been going on?

 _Romanoff got me into it._

That's it. You're out. I don't want you at my Tower. I can't believe you text and you didn't tell me. But that means I'll have to nix her too…and she _did_ get Barton in for me…

 _You're telling me you want_ all of us _staying at the Tower? Until_ Christmas _?_

You _cannot_ be implying that you have some self-righteous argument against it. Especially not after texting behind my back.

 _No, not at all. I just think you're maybe biting off more than you can chew._

…Gee. Thanks, Dad. Maybe you should _text_ me some advice about it.

 _It's not like that._

I can't believe you _text_ and you didn't _tell me!_

 _Get over it, Tony. Does Pepper know?_

But I'm _not_ over it. We'll be discussing this, later. My place. Fifteen minutes. Bring a toothbrush and long-jons.

 _Fine. But I'll be late. Gotta finish some things here first._

It's a date.

 _Tell Pepper. Or I will._

Uhh, static. Didn't catch that last bit.

 **V.**

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Tony

The game's afoot

NEW MESSAGE FROM: WARMACHINEROX

Glad to hear it.

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Tony

Our child

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Tony

…will be beautiful

NEW MESSAGE FROM: WARMACHINEROX

…I'm just not gonna ask.


	2. O Come All Ye Faithful

**Welcome back. I appreciate your willingness to give this ridiculous thing a second look.**

 **(And just first, to get it out of the way in case I forget later, I have to apologize to Dickens. I spoof 'A Christmas Carol' later on in the fic.)**

 **First, I have to explain myself and where I've taken you. We're in an alternate dimension, where Phase 1 did happen as we witnessed in the films, but Phase 2 is sketchy.** _ **Avengers**_ **happened as we saw it.** _ **Iron Man 3**_ **happened (though probably later than it was supposed to…? I accidentally referenced it as being 'last year' in the first chapter/prologue of this, and then said it had been "several years" since the events of** _ **Avengers**_ **in more important text later. So, whoopsies).** _ **Winter Soldier**_ **happened. So did** _ **Ant Man**_ **.**

 **But. And this is the big one. Events in Asgard transpired in a slightly different manner, mainly because I had demands that Loki be present (and because he's my favorite, and because most of these jokes/'plot' just DON'T WORK without him). But that's also explained in the text. Suffice it to say,** _ **The Dark World**_ **did NOT happen as we saw it (though an altercation with the Dark Elves did take place), through differing circumstances that I hope will make themselves obvious below, as did** _ **Age of Ultron**_ **.**

 **Several of the characters have met that hadn't by this point in the movies. I don't have explanations for that at this time. Butterfly effect, I guess.**

 _ **Civil War**_ **has NOT taken place yet. So, unfortunately, Bucky, Black Panther and Quicksilver will not be making any appearances, except in memory. I had all I could do with the characters I'd already been talked into including.**

 **I listed Tony, Natasha and Loki as characters, because 'everyone' wasn't an option, and they ended up being the characters I gravitated most toward.**

 **Anyways. Sorry for the huge-ass AN. Hope it clears up any questions, or at the very least entertains.**

 **Lots of references included. Especially to** _ **National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation**_ **, because it's my favorite. There will also be cameo appearances.**

 **Now, without any further ado, the first chapter proper.**

 **I.**

The lights were dim, Christmas music was playing – nice Christmas music, not too brash, not too nostalgic – just sappy enough. Hors d'oeuvres were on the tables.

Tony flicked the weird little vegetable-things off a cracker.

His four guests had collected themselves onto the couches in the middle of the room. Natasha was the center, sitting next to Bruce who had his arm on the back of the seat behind her. She was leaning forward with her elbows on her knees as she spoke with Steve, who sat on the couch opposite. Then they were all laughing at Clint, who'd come over in his Santa-Clause hat with a beer in his hand and plopped himself onto the floor by her feet.

Tony wandered over their way, nursing a scotch, tracing one hand along the smooth leather of the back of Steve's couch. He half-smirked at their laughter and, finding he didn't actually want to _eat_ the cracker he was carrying, he flicked it at Clint.

He stared out the wide panel windows that overlooked the city. There was nothing to see, this time of day, it was too dark with the lights on. Sometimes when Pepper wasn't home and he was drinking he would turn off all the lights and sit on the bar and just look out at all the tiny, flickering points of light.

"Stark,"

"Mm?" Tony spun on his heel. "Who's asking?"

Steve had turned, and now all four of them were looking at him.

Natasha leaned languidly back on the couch. "We lost you for a minute," she gave her slow smile, the one that had something teasing or uncertain about the eyes. Banner's arm dropped around her shoulders.

"Didn't lose me."

Steve was watching him, "You nervous about something, Tony?"

"Who?" Tony half-turned like he was checking to see if anyone was behind him. Then, finding no one he pointed at his chest, "me? No." He put his hand in his pocket and wandered back down onto the level of the three couches, "I'm not nervous. I never get nervous. Are…are you? Nervous? Is that what this is about?"

"What Steve had asked, originally," Natasha uncrossed and re-crossed her legs, "was what you had planned for this eternal Christmas party."

Tony scoffed, "Eternal's putting a grandiose spin on it, don't you think?"

"Tony," Steve gestured with one hand, "even _you've_ got to admit that _two weeks_ is a bit of a stretch."

Tony pointed at him, "Roman emperors had parties that lasted way longer. Nero, anyone?"

Bruce winced, "Are you sure _that's_ the one you wanna go with?"

Clint laughed.

Tony ignored them, "And don't you dare quote our revered Dr., Sir Benjamin Franklin, for me on this. Fish are friends, not food,"

Touching the bridge of his nose with his thumb, Bruce chuckled.

Tony appreciated that. "And friends don't stink after three days. Not when bathed regularly. This is not the Middle Ages, people," pulling up the sleeve of his jacket, he checked his watch, "not yet." He threw a look at the black surface of the floor-to-ceiling windows and pretended not to notice the questioning looks his guests were giving one another.

"This is Christmas!" Tony proclaimed. He clapped his hands and the lights he'd strung along the balcony and around the parameter of the windows flickered to life.

They had the desired effect.

"And I for one," he continued, pacing along the upper step and calling their attention back to his favorite place, himself, "am tired of this festive season being…shoved aside – like it's just another thing to…to check off on the to-do list.

"And _I_ intend," he persisted, "to _do_ something about it. You," he pointed at Steve, "Robbie the Riveter. What's Christmas all about?"

Bruce looked uncertain, "F-fam –"

Tony waved his hand, "Hush you."

Giving a half-smile, Steve sighed, "We're not really doing this, Tony?"

"Yes," Tony said, "yes we are. What's the answer? I know you know it. Now spill."

Steve raised his head, "Like Banner said," his blue eyes met Tony's. "Family."

Tony snapped his fingers. "I knew you were my man. No offence Dr.,"

Bruce raised the hand not around Natasha, palm out in surrender.

Tony turned back to Steve, "Exactly," he said. He rotated on his heel to face the rest of the room, "Family. Which – I might venture to add – many of you are lacking?"

"Not all of us," Clint muttered, raising his bottle to his lips.

Natasha batted the side of his head with her foot.

Clint choked, "Hey!"

"Shh."

"Thank you," Tony told her.

Natasha's smile slid too far to one side, "You'll only make him take longer."

Tony looked at her a long moment, then closed his hand. "…Never mind."

He went further up the step. He liked the distance, the height. "That's not the point." Pacing, he pressed the bridge of his nose. "God, I hate doing this."

He raised his head, and saw all four of them, watching him.

"I called you all here," he said, "because _I_ don't. Because it'd be fun. Because it's something different. Because I thought you'd have a good time. Because _no one_ should be lonely on Christmas. And, for what it's worth – which admittedly isn't much – you matter to me as much as any of them ever did."

Only Natasha was still looking at him, her elbows on her knees and her drink balanced between her hands. The expression on her face was opaque.

Finding that his pacing had led him near the bar, Tony cleared what little distance remained and refreshed his scotch. "Even you, Agent Romanoff," he said.

She smiled with half her mouth, "Good speech, Tony."

"Good evening, Ms. Potts," Friday's voice was tinny, greeting Pepper at the front door, twenty-three floors below, and alerting Tony from the tiny speaker he'd built into his wristwatch.

Tony's blood went suddenly cold.

Natasha's eyes laughed at him though her mouth didn't once so much as twitch, "You didn't tell her, did you?"

Tony straightened. He set his drink down. He straightened his jacket.

"Tony!" Steve fell back on the couch.

Clint whistled.

"Hey," Tony put his palms up, "Vote of confidence? Guys, come on."

Bruce folded his arms and leaned over them, "Oh this is gonna be…awful."

Tony's mouth twisted, "Whose side are you _on?_ "

Bruce pressed his fingers into his eyes, "The losing side."

Laughing, Natasha reached around to rub his back.

They heard the _ting_ of an opening elevator door.

Tony rubbed his hands. He pivoted to face the door, putting up what was supposed to be a confident smile.

Pepper rounded the corner, then drew up short, seeing everyone. Rhodey, beside her, also seemed surprised.

"Hey Honey. Oh, and you too, Pepper," Tony lowered his voice. "Friday,"

"Yes Boss?"  
"You didn't tell me Rhodes was here."

Pepper turned bewildered to Rhodes.

He touched his mouth, then folded his arms.

"You…" the AI sounded uncertain, "only asked me to warn you about Ms. Potts. Did I do something wrong?"

"No," Tony sighed, "You did great. I'll just have to…" he touched the bridge of his nose, "fix that."

Pepper shook her head, smoothing out her skirt with the hand that wasn't holding her papers against her chest. Drawing a long breath she faced the room. "Well, hello everyone," her smile was bright, if thin. "This is a surprise."

Spreading his hands, Tony smiled at his latest arrivals, "Surprise," he said.

Rhodey lifted his head out of his hand, "Tony," he said, crossing his arms, "what did you do?"

Tony pointed at him, "I'll deal with you later. You weren't even supposed to _be_ here. I thought you were in a meeting. Shoo. Mingle."

Rhodes looked at him, his expression very dry.

"Colonel Rhodes," Steve got up from the couch.

Rhodes turned to greet him, "Captain Rogers."

Tony left them to it and went past Rhodey to Pepper, who stood where she had stopped upon entering. She wore a dark skirt and heels and she had all her hair brushed back into a ponytail. Tony stopped in front of her and slid his hand around the bundle of papers. She wouldn't quite meet his eyes. Gently, he took the papers from her and set them onto the bar that stood next to them.

"Merry Christmas," he said. He leaned in to kiss her but she turned her head.

"A party, Tony?" she whispered, "A little warning would have been nice."

The bones of her shoulders were delicate, like a bird's. He traced them with his fingertips. "I wanted to surprise you."

She turned her face up to him, almost smiling, "Did you even _try_ to text me?"

Tony moved back a little. He frowned, "What part of 'surprise,' didn't you hear?"

She exhaled a soft sigh, brushing a hand over her eyes, "I'm sorry, Tony," she said, "I should know better by now. Just," she tipped her head back to look in his eyes, "a little warning next time?" she went up and gave him a quick kiss.

"You're totally not getting the 'surprise' thing." Tony told her. "Did you…not have a childhood?"

Pepper gave a breathy laugh, "Yes, but it _ended_ , Tony. Now I'm a CEO."

"You're…" Tony tipped his head, "a _little_ more than that… And what is this coming in with Rhodey? He told me you weren't together?"

She laughed at him, "He _happened_ to meet me on the way in," she smiled, "Said he was worried about you."

Tony let go of her shoulders to make an expansive gesture with his hands, "Why is everyone always worrying about me?"

One eyebrow wrinkled her forehead, "Really, Tony? Have your party," she smoothed down his tie, "It's Christmas. But after they leave, I need to _relax_."

Giving her head a little shake she turned to greet their guests.

"Yeah," Tony said, "'bout that… You're not gonna like this at first blush…but I guarantee that once you let it sink in…"

" _Two weeks_?" Rhodey rounded on him.

" _Ohh_ -kay," Tony said, "See? That was _not_ how I wanted to spring that. But cat's out of the bag now…"

Rhodes looked exasperated. "Tony…"

Pepper stopped, then she turned to face him, realizing all of a sudden what Tony hadn't told her. She closed her eyes. "You did," she asked him, " _what_?"

"That's not fair." Tony protested, "You didn't let me finish."

"Oh, this is gonna be good." Rhodey squared his feet and put his hand over his mouth.

Pepper crossed her arms.

"Why don't you go…and lie down for a while," Tony started.

"How do I not expect these things?" Pepper interrupted him.

"… _and we'll talk_ ," Tony said over her, "when you're feeling better."

"No," she demanded. "We are talking, right now."

"Mmm, no. But you're not listening to my side –"

" _Your_ side?"

"Really? I'm not – Do I really _not_ get a say?"

"We don't have to stay," Steve said from behind Pepper.

That threw her off, she turned around and looked at him.

"You know what, Rogers?" Tony said, "Thanks, but no thanks. I'm _trying_ to have a _conversation_ here,"

"Tony," Pepper held up one hand. She closed her eyes.

Very slowly, she exhaled and lowered her hand.

"I've had a _very_ long day," she said. "And I would like nothing more, in the world, than a glass of wine and a hot bath. I am going to give you, three minutes, to explain yourself."

"Um," Tony blinked, "On the spot…uh," he ran a hand through his hair.

"Stark," Natasha said from the couch.

Tony put up his hand, "Just give the GPS a minute to warm up…"

" _Tony_ ,"

" _What_?" he turned on her.

Natasha's expression was oddly…reassuring. "Tell her what you told us," she said.

Tony watched her for a long minute, but her face didn't change.

"Tony," Pepper prompted.

"Look," Tony started, "it's Christmas…"

She folded her arms. "I-I know it's Christmas."

"No," he said, "Don't do that. Just – just _listen_ for a minute –"

"What do you _think_ we're all doing?" she demanded.

"Do you even _want_ to listen to me?"

"Yes." Pepper shook her head, "Yes, Tony. I'm sure we all want to know what this is all about."

"See, you _say_ 'yes,' but you're –"

Natasha's voice caught him again. "Tony," she said.

"Right. What I said before," he put his hand, stopping his ear, "...and what I said before was that Christmas is about family. And since not everyone here has a family to go home to –"

"Oh, so now the Avengers are your altruistic holiday project?"

"No!" he said, "No. I didn't say that. Don't put words in my mouth, I can do that just fine by myself."

"Are you sure it's not just Tony Stark showing off?"

"No. It's more than that. It's –"

"I can't _do_ it anymore Tony –"

She wasn't looking at him and he couldn't stand it. He took her arms in his hands. " _I_ don't have a family."

She stopped, and she just looked at him.

He gave a long breath. " _I_ , don't have a family," he repeated, softer. "And _you_ ," he traced her arms with his thumbs, "and," he glanced around the room at the others, all awkwardly watching the two of them, "all of you, are all I have left. So, there it is." Letting go of Pepper's arms he stepped back. "I'm _your_ altruistic holiday project, I guess," he shrugged. "If you'll have me. I'd like," he offered, "to make it a little bit of fun along the way."

Pepper gave a long sigh, and she closed her eyes.

"For the record," Rhodey interjected. "This is _not_ what I meant when I told you to ask your other friends."

Pepper turned on him, "You're in on this too?"

Rhodey held up his hands, "It's not like that –"

He was cut off by a beam of white light that sliced the blackness outside the windows and temporarily blinded all of them as they turned in surprise. It made no sound and it took up the entire view for long enough that they all caught their breath, then, just as quickly, it vanished.

"Was that…" Rhodey asked after a beat, "what I think it was?"

Tony looked at his watch, re-gathering his swagger, "A little late," he said, "but, eh," he shrugged, "can't rush God. Or, rather," he went past them, " _a_ god. Since that's apparently a genus now. And with that glorious light show," he threw open the doors, letting in a cold wind, "that gang's all here!"

"Weirdly enough." Rhodey muttered from behind him, "this is normal now."

As Tony strode out onto the landing pad, he saw movement in the dark, coming toward him. Then the light from inside the Tower shone on Thor's face.

"Friend Stark!" he clapped a heavy hand on Tony's shoulder.

"Ow, easy there, Point Break, in _a_ suit, not _the_ suit."

Behind Thor, he saw another shape slip free of the darkness.

Lowering his voice, marginally, Tony said, "Shoulda asked first maybe?"

Thor's eyebrows rose, "Our mother insisted," he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Well," Tony shrugged, "you know, so long as mom's happy,"

"Exactly," Thor smiled. "I trust there is no emergency gathering us this night? That all is well? The messenger you sent seemed…distracted."

"Nope. No emergency," Tony said. He patted Thor's huge bicep. "Come on," he said. "Party's inside. Or it was. Go on," he flipped his wrists, shooing everyone back towards the Tower, "Scoot."

Rhodey and Pepper were talking lowly.

Thor bowed, "Lady Pepper," he took her hand and kissed the back of it.

She smiled, "It's good to see you, Thor."

Bruce looked a little lost from Natasha to Steve, "How did he get a message…?" he trailed, "Even Fury…?"

"Oh, that," Tony smirked, "I sent a bird."

"Oh yeah," Clint laughed, "I can just see you, persuading the pigeons in Central Park," he pretended to scatter seed, then bobbed his head, blinking his eyes in imitation of the pigeon.

"Don't tempt him Clint," Natasha was wearing Bruce's coat around her shoulders. "You don't know what you're getting into."

"Should be all over the tabloids by now," Tony said.

Clint straightened, looking at Natasha, "You know what?" he said. He rubbed the back of his neck, pushing the hat up at an odd angle, "Sad thing is, I do."

Smiling, Natasha shook her head, "And here I was, thinking you'd learn."

Barton chuckled.

Tony shrugged, "Look it up," he said.

Bruce's smile faltered, "You didn't…"

"Did you think any less of me?" Tony turned on him, "Shame on you, Banner. After all we've been through. Hey, what's the holdup? It is _cold_ out here, people, and I have a perfectly good Tower _right there_."

"Let's go boys," Natasha said, "I think I need to refresh this."

Bruce took the glass from her as they went.

Tony stepped out of the way of the door, letting Pepper, Rhodey, Natasha, Bruce and Clint all pass him. Then Steve and Thor, who were animatedly discussing some new move they wanted to try out for their missions. Tony smirked. He'd had the gym on the lower floor revamped for just such an occasion.

Loki made no move to pass him.

It had been a few years since Loki had attempted Earth's subjugation. After his defeat and forcible removal from the planet, he had faced what Thor assured them was some excruciating form of Asgardian justice – the details of which Thor implied he himself was too pained to reveal. Upon Loki's release from whatever Asgardian cell they'd kept him in for the duration of the punishment, their father had demanded that he serve the remainder of his sentence aiding the very mortals he had fought to vanquish. Tony didn't know that it was a form of justice he approved of, but there was apparently no more point in arguing with _any_ of Thor's family members than in arguing with the Thunder God himself. He comforted himself with the fact that it had to be a _stunning_ blow to the former-villains pride. And he was willing to be a part of that, so long as there was some kind of contingency plan for when the irate godling turned on them.

Which, though it had never happened, still existed in Tony's mind as a relatively distinct possibility.

Even after Loki helped defeat Strucker. Tony had kinda thought he was only in that to get the scepter he could so easily track back for himself, but, to the trickster's credit, he hadn't even made so much as a move toward the Glowstick of Destiny. Didn't want to look at it, if his act was to be believed. And Thor for one had clearly believed it.

He'd lashed out more viciously than Tony had thought strictly necessary during the Ultron crisis, but Thor had too, and the brothers seemed more united in that than Tony had ever seen them before, and he was assured that that was no cause for his alarm.

And it was pretty decent of Loki to block that particular piece of shrapnel that was flying through all the PTSD at his chest that one time. Far be it from Tony not to admit that he appreciated that.

And the time that Loki had brought Banner back from what looked to be certain death. It had been especially funny, since Hulk had come back in Banner's place. Tony kinda wished he'd gotten a picture of Loki's face, so he could have set it as the screensaver for every electronic device in the Tower. What was less funny was that Hulk had taken out almost half a block before VERONICA had shown up, but that was due to technological difficulties that had been entirely Tony's own fault.

It had been a number of years, and where Thor was summoned, Loki followed. By obligation only. The few times Thor had come purely for what the god called 'sport' Loki was notably absent. Until now.

Tony took a deliberate step toward him and put his hands into his pockets. "Not that the cold bothers you, anyway."

Loki didn't move. He only looked at Tony for a long moment from under his dark and delicately sculpted brows, before inclining his chin a fraction. "Stark."

Tony turned to look over the platform, knowing that the move would irritate the god. "I've _got_ to decorate out here," he muttered. "Maybe some red and green lights…Very festive…" He rounded on Loki, "How's Margo?"

Loki looked at him. And if it wasn't for their long and illustrious working relationship, Tony would have missed the brief flicker across his face, and he definitely wouldn't have recognized it as barely-concealed confusion. He patted himself on the back for his improving acuity.

He smirked, "'Christmas Vacation' reference. Duly," he pulled one hand from his pocket pretending to mark on it, " _noted_." He mimed closing the notebook and slipping it back in his pocket. Clicking the imaginary pen he put his hands back into his pockets, "We will have to make a viewing part of the festivities. You'd –" Glancing up he cocked his head at Loki, "You know, I have no idea. Do you _like_ slapstick?"

Loki's expression might have been an eye-roll and might have been indicative of him silently begging Heimdall to reconsider his freedom. Giving a short sigh he closed his eyes. "Undoubtedly," he said.

"Was that sarcasm?" Tony grinned. "Eh, screw it, you'll love it." Closing the small distance between them, Tony gripped his shoulder.

With a look of disgust, Loki shoved him off.

So, Tony prodded his chest with two fingers. "No stabby-stabby in my Tower this time, capiche?"

Loki looked down his nose at him. "Would you have had me stay my hand last time, Stark?" he drawled, "Because, as I recall…"

"No, no actually, _that_ was a good one. You did a good thing there," he patted Loki's shoulder, "Was mostly referring to the… _other_ …times. Okay. Good talk. Square deal. Want in? Because I _don't_ think Big Brother's gonna appreciate it if I let you stay outside, and we mortals _do_ feel the cold."

"Mm." Loki said. "It would appear that I must then, for your sake."

"Because I _could_ just get Thor out here to –"

"Let me pass, Stark."

"Sure thing, Reindeer Games. Oh, and, one more thing," Tony gripped his shoulder as the god passed him in the doorway.

Loki stopped half-way across the threshold. He didn't actually turn his head, but he glared at Tony well enough without that.

"Merry Christmas." Tony slapped him on the back and released him. He stepped through after and shut the door. Shoving his hands back into his pockets, he shivered.

Looking across this tiny portion of his domain, Tony saw that his guests had gathered back in the midpoint of the room, centered around the couches and the bar. Pepper had taken a place on the couch facing him with her feet propped up on the coffee table. She'd left her coat slung over the back of a chair and let her hair down. The light glinted off of her hair as she moved.

Steve was telling a story, and she was laughing at it.

Smiling, Tony went down to join them.

 **II.**

"You know the deal," Stark dropped onto the couch, "you and Evil-Brother room together."

Thor half-smiled. It had grown quite late; Loki had retired some time since. Thor was just saying that he might join him.

"Yup…" Tony laid back.

Rhodes had taken his leave long ago, and Lady Pepper had gone to her room shortly thereafter. The others had fallen into soft talk or companionable silence.

"Knew he was scared of the dark," Tony continued. "Thought it might be some comfort to him, having you around…"

Pausing as he rose, Thor looked at him, "He told you that?"

Tony faced him from under one hand, "Um, no? No. I just made that up. I put you two together, because I want to diminish the volume of evil he is left free to generate."

Thor gave a low chuckle, "Even after all this time," he said, "You still do not trust him?"

"Uh…No. That's a pretty sure no."

"You know what, guys?" Banner roused himself. "It's late for all this, I'm…I think I'm gonna turn in."

Rising, Thor extended his hand to help Banner to his feet.

"Thanks."

Thor looked over the little group, "Banner is right," he said. "I too shall retire. Rest well, my friends."

Tony gave a non-comital wave.

"Night, Thor," Natasha smiled.

Mjolnir balanced between his hands, Thor took the elevator to the floor Stark had designated as his when this building had been completed. It was a pleasant place. It had a good view of the sky.

The elevator door chimed as it opened and Thor watched it with a little smile he was totally unaware of. He stepped out of the elevator and into the dark of his rooms. He went quietly through the space, dodging the table he had moved when last he had partaken of Stark's hospitality, and a chair he half-saw in the darkness. He tripped over an ottoman he wasn't sure he had ever seen before.

Then he paused on the outer side of the inner-chamber door.

It had been created a large room – nearly the largest bedroom among those in the Tower – designed with huge windows that could be drawn at spoken command. Once Loki had begun accompanying Thor on his missions, Tony had had another bed brought and placed within. They had not shared a room since childhood, and Loki did not enjoy that such was asked of him now.

Nervously, Thor drummed his fingers on Mjolnir's head. Then, dropping his hand he rapped gently against the doorframe with one knuckle.

Receiving no answer, and assuming from that that Loki must have truly been tired and not merely seeking sanctuary from his friends, Thor breathed a sigh of relief and opened the door.

His eyes were immediately drawn to the far side of the room, where Loki was lying on his back, on the bed farthest from the door, with one arm behind his head and the other extended nearly to its full length above his face as he silently watched the little flames that he flicked up and down the fingers of his splayed hand. The glow played across the hard lines of his face.

Startled, but not truly surprised, Thor watched him for a moment, then turned and brought the door to once more behind him. Quietly, he laid Mjolnir in its place, then went across to a spot in the middle of the wall nearer Loki's bed where there was a little low table. Leaning backward against it, he rubbed his hands.

"You're not asleep," he offered, at length.

He saw Loki's jaw tighten.

"All right," Thor folded his arms. "It's obvious that you don't want to be here."

Loki gave no sign that he had heard.

"Are you not going to speak to me?"

"I was waiting to see if you had anything to say of pertinence," Loki answered. He closed his fist and the fire winked out, dropping the dark over both of them. The glow of his fire was replaced by the thin light from the city below. "What do you want, Thor?"

"Well," Thor said, "I would appreciate it if you could at least _pretend_ you're enjoying yourself."

The light caught on the objects in the room, but left the bed in darkness. Thor couldn't see him at all.

"You know very well that I'm not," he said dryly, "Why shouldn't they?"

"These are my friends, Brother."

"Yes. _Your_ friends."

"Yours as well if you made any effort."

In the dark, Thor heard Loki scoff.

"What has passed _is_ past, Loki," he said, "if you would only have it so."

To that, Loki made no answer.

Pushing himself up, Thor went over to the bed. He leaned down and braced his hand against the wall.

Loki glared at him.

"Please, Brother," he asked, "It's only for a fortnight."

Loki looked at him for a long moment, then away. When he brought his eyes back they were softer than they had been. "They're all going to die," he murmured.

Thor half-smiled. "But not today."

"But soon."

"As are we."

Loki rolled his eyes, "A worthy comparison, Thor, truly. Now get off." Rolling to his feet he pushed past Thor's arm. "I don't see why _I_ have to be involved."

Thor turned to follow him. "Yes you do," he grinned.

Loki flicked him a look, then turned back to the window, where he'd stopped and stood, looking down at the city.

Thor went and stood next to him, following his gaze. So many lights. And they was so different from Asgard.

"You never did appreciate festivities, did you?"

Loki didn't look at him. "Did I?"

"Not since we were very young."

"No," Loki said softly, "I suppose I didn't."

Thor turned from the window and looked at him, "What…changed?" he asked.

Loki only glanced at him, "I changed." He drew a breath, "Has Stark made known to you," he asked, filling the space before Thor could speak again, "what he intends to _do_ with us for a fortnight?"

He wanted to change the conversation from himself. Thor recognized the tactic. Loki had employed it often before. Drawing a long breath, Thor squared his feet. "He wishes to share his festival traditions with us," he answered. He folded his arms. "No more and no less."

Loki's mouth twisted, "Now that I doubt," he said. "Earth's festivals are not so lengthy, this age."

"Then what is it you think he intends?"

Loki smiled acerbically at him, "He hasn't taken _me_ into his confidence."

"Nor me either."

Loki only shook his head, looking down through the glass at the city with one hand against his lips.

Silence fell between them for one moment, before Thor broke it. "Don't…you know something of them?"

Loki looked at him.

"Human traditions, I mean. Weren't you always…interested in…those sorts of things?"

"You mean the 'worthless foolery' that distracted me from my 'more worthy' pursuits?" Loki's mouth tipped sarcastically. "That was long ago." He flicked his hand, "I know nothing of this age's traditions."

"But you do know something," Thor pressed.

Loki frowned.

"Look at ours!" Thor flung out one arm, "Steady for eons!"

"Yes." Loki said dryly. "In the 'Realm Eternal'. Are you sure that's _all_ he wants? To 'share his traditions'?"

"Loki," Thor sagged, " _enough_."

"When have I been wrong?" Loki pressed. "You _do_ recall his 'Ultron'?"

Thor sighed. The glass fogged with his breath. Leaning one arm against the cold pane he saw his own reflection, and through it, the lights of the city.

"This is different," he decided at length. "You'll see."

"We all shall."

"Go to sleep." Thor told him. "The revels begin in earnest at dawn."

"Oh," Loki drawled, "Goody."

Turning back to the window, Thor chuckled. "Rest well, my brother."

 **Believe it or not. This story was supposed to be crack.**

 **Little known fact: I can't write crack.**


	3. Deck the Halls

**Sorry about the wait, I did plan on publishing most of this** _ **before**_ **Christmas, rather than** _ **after**_ **, but it went the way of all my recent plans. Time is kinda a bitch – if you'll pardon the expression.**

 **This was written almost exclusively on commission. I was complaining with a number of friends that Marvel wasn't going to do an Avengers-Sitcom – and then I was complaining that they also weren't going to do an Avengers-Christmas-Special.**

 **They reminded me that one ought to 'be the change one wishes to see in the world' – which is a nice sentiment. Truly.**

 **But what really pushed me over the edge was that they started coming up with ideas. Full pages of dialogue. Plot points. Spoofs on my favorite Christmas movies/stories. Avengers-style commentaries.**

 **I penciled a draft. Then I** _ **studied**_ **the movies. Never done that before. Lots of interesting details go unnoticed when one is merely** _ **watching**_ **a movie.**

 **Thor and Loki are the only two characters I've ever written before. And it's different to write them in this context, so it's been a fun challenge.**

 **In a few cases I changed characters speaking, because I felt that the original was out of character in some way. A few things were deleted entirely. A few took drastic editing.**

 **But the great majority of their suggestions/requests made it in. Pardon its silliness.**

 **I.**

Natasha woke suddenly and completely to the pale ceiling and the black frame of the bed in her room at Avengers Tower.

Exhaling completely, she closed her hands into loose fists. Then she let them go with the dream, whatever it had been.

Turning her head, she saw the thin grey sky beyond the glass of the window, and the glowing red display of the digital clock on the bedside table. 6:41. She'd only been asleep for some four hours.

Whatever she might have to say about that, she was awake now.

Pushing back the cream-colored comforter, she got up and brushed her hair back from her eyes with her hand. Then she stood and she went to the bathroom, splashed her face with cold water, combed her fingers through her hair and put on a pair of Bruce's sweatpants and the hoody she'd stolen from Tony. She glanced at her reflection in the bathroom mirror.

 _"Is this,"_ Tony'd asked, gesturing to her outfit the first time, _"what we're doing now? You work for SHIELD, it's not like you can't afford the Salvation Army."_

 _"You're a billionaire,"_ she'd said back, smirking at him around a grape, _"it's not like you can't spare the sweatshirt."_

Bruce and Steve had both laughed.

 _"No, seriously,"_ Tony'd rested his elbows on the countertop, _"is there a method here? Because this is seriously a thing. You're like…a kleptomaniac."_

 _"It's what she does,"_ Clint had said. He'd been sitting on the counter, nursing a cup of coffee, kicking his feet.

 _"So that's it. You really are a kleptomaniac?"_ Tony had pressed, _"Is it – is it how you establish dominance?"_ he'd turned to the others, _"Is it how she…?"_

Clint had looked at him without any change of expression, _"Is it working?"_

And Bruce had nodded, which had made everyone laugh.

Natasha's reflection smiled back at her as she recalled the memory.

It had started with Clint, when she'd run aground and taken shelter in his 'safe house'. The mission was supposed to have been simple, and she'd had nothing but the uniform she'd been wearing. Clint had loaned her something more comfortable.

 _"I'm keeping this_ , _"_ she'd teased him, losing her hands in the sleeves of his sweatshirt.

His hand had felt steady as he gripped her shoulder. _"Good. Then Laura will stop telling me to get rid of it."_

With Tony it had begun similarly. They'd been in a bind and she'd needed a disguise with short notice. And she liked the hoody. It had served her well, multiple times.

Clipping the necklace Clint had given her – thin and gold with a tiny arrow – about her throat, she ventured out of her rooms. She took the stairs through the dimmed hallways and down to the common floors. They were wrapped in shadows, and almost eerily quiet with only the thin light from the windows showing the way. Her feet didn't make any sound as she moved. It made her feel uneasily like a wraith herself.

There was light in the kitchen.

It was Steve. He was sitting alone at the kitchen table, fully dressed, with a plate of pancakes he was half-attending in front of him while he tapped at a laptop he'd propped nearby.

"Morning Soldier," she smiled.

Steve glanced up, "Morning Romanoff."

There was something about his eyes that wasn't quite right, she thought. He seemed exhausted.

She crossed the room to open the fridge, "Newspaper a little, _out-of-date_ , for you these days?" she asked, eyeing the computer.

Steve shrugged, "This is faster now. Plus," he half-smiled, "I like gaining fluency."

"Gotta shave some of the credence off of Stark's jabs, huh?" she smirked at him over the top of the refrigerator door.

He gave a short laugh. "Every little bit helps."

"And speaking of Stark," she straightened, shutting the fridge, "has there been any sign of our _illustrious_ host?"

"Not since last night. But," he smiled frankly, "between friends, I wasn't expecting an early start," he pushed the computer further away.

"No, don't stop," she told him.

He looked at her in some confusion.

"Not if it's something good. I'll get out of your way,"

"No. It's nothing," he smiled, "Just more of the same thing I read every day. It's nice to break things up."

"Maybe Stark wasn't so crazy, bringing us all together for a few days."

"Yeah," he rested both elbows on the tabletop, hugging his arms, "It'll be nice to see everyone, you know…"

"In a less stressful environment?"

"Yeah. There's –" he shook his head, "I'm sorry. There's pancakes in the oven," he told her, "and coffee on the stove, if _Red Bull_ 's not your choice."

"You read my mind." She opened the oven, then turned back to marvel at him. "You made pancakes? You really _are_ a hero, Rogers."

"Eh," he shrugged, "I was up early."

"So modest." Glancing, she saw the little smile on his face and, knowing that she had done something to help put it there, she smiled.

"And there _is_ orange juice in the _very_ back of the fridge."

"Look at you Rogers," setting her plate on the table she smiled at him, "You're pulling out _all_ the stops."

"I aim to please."

"Are you always up so early?" she asked, settling herself at the table opposite him.

"More or less," he shrugged, a touch listlessly. "Old habits. And besides that, I don't always sleep well," he closed the laptop.

"You know, I pegged you for an early riser."

"Did you?" he gave her a lopsided smile. It was the one she liked best from him. It wasn't an expression that could be forced.

"And what about you?" he asked.

Her heart jumped a little in her chest. Nervously, she looked away. "Varys," she managed after a moment, "from night to night."

"I'm," he faltered, "sorry, I didn't…"

"No, it's fine," she recovered, chiding herself for her slip, "it's nothing. I just," she shrugged, she brought up a smile, "don't always sleep well, either."

Nodding his head, he dropped his eyes.

Natasha shifted in her seat, crossing her legs. "So," she said. She set down her coffee and cupped it between her hands.

Steve glanced up at her, "So?"

She leaned forward a little, "I have a wager for you," she smiled.

One brow quirked on his forehead, "A wager?"

"Who," she lifted her cup, pausing for the effect, "will be the last one up?"

"You wanna bet on that?" he asked, his second brow rising to join the first. He smiled.

"Well, who's your bet? Because I have _verified_ evidence that both Clint and Bruce _hate_ mornings,"

"Stark," he said, without hesitation.

"Really?" she laughed.  
"Oh, hands down. Did you _see_ how much he drank last night?"

" _Yes_ , but we still have Thor and Loki to account for. Thor strikes me as an early riser," she shrugged, "but I can't get a read on Loki. So," she smiled at him, resting her elbows on the tabletop. "Your bet's Tony?"

"I'd bet on Stark any day."

She picked up her fork, "He'd be touched."

 **II.**

It was perhaps thirty minutes later – Natasha had dawdled through her pancakes and Steve had finished his coffee – when the floor creaked and announced the first addition to their gathering.

"Morning Thor," she said.

He was dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and an open flannel. His hair was loose and mussed from sleep. Natasha couldn't recall the last time she'd seen him without his armor.

"Good morrow, friends," he answered.

They fought alongside one another to save the world, she mused, and yet they knew so little for certain about one another. Tipping her head slightly, she thought again that perhaps Tony was right. Then she laughed, knowing how elated he'd be if she ever told him.

Thor prodded at the things that lay scattered about the counter. "Have you discovered anything that constitutes a proper breakfast?"

"Steve made us pancakes."

"They're in the oven," Steve told him.

Padding past Steve in his bare feet, Thor clapped him on the shoulder, "You're a good man, Rogers."

Natasha bit her lip and watched as mirroring laughter flashed in Steve's eyes. He half-glanced over his shoulder at Thor, "Thanks."

"And there's coffee on the stove," Natasha said.

"A fitting start," Thor straightened from the stove, laying down his plate and carelessly filling one of the mugs that stood beside it, "to the revels of Earth. Are," he took a drink from the steaming mug, "all, holidays so celebrated on Earth?"

"No," Steve shook his head, stifling a laugh, "They're not usually like this at all."

"Unless you know Tony Stark," Natasha countered.

Steve tipped his mug, "Fair point."

"Where is our host?" Thor asked. He leaned back against the counter and crossed his ankles, "I have yet to see him this morning."

"Sleeping," Steve told him.

Natasha scoffed, turning to better include their latest arrival in their conversation, "You hope."

" _If_ he's not," Steve rested an elbow on the table, gesturing with his hand, "then explain where he is, Romanoff. Have you _ever_ known Tony to stay quiet this long?"

Sitting back, Natasha nodded her head, "Touche," she allowed.

Thor was watching the two of them with a puzzled frown on his face, but he said nothing as he ate.

"You can still back out," Steve offered.

Natasha stretched her legs under the table and crossed her ankles, "Nope," she smirked.

Thor set his fork on his plate, very deliberately, with a little _clink_. "I do not understand." He said. "What is…" he gestured with one hand, indicating the two of them, "this?"

"Nat bet that Stark would be the last one up."

"You," Thor frowned, "made a wager, on who would be the last to rise?"

Natasha set her coffee down, "We did," she said. "Hey, no correlation, but, by any chance, does your brother like to sleep in?"

"He _did_ turn in pretty early," Steve reminded her.

"He did." Natasha agreed. "But," she looked at Thor candidly, "it's got _no_ connection to the wager, you understand."

"Oh no, of course," Thor chuckled, "It is but friendly interest. Yes…well, at least in our youth that _was_ his way. These days his habits are more…varied. I cannot say for sure."

"But your guess is yes," Steve prompted.

"That would be my best conjecture," Thor replied.

"Don't get cocky, Rogers," Natasha said, "Stark's unpredictable."

Thor shook his head, "Truly, you mortals are amusing."

"What's amusing?"

Natasha turned in her seat and saw Bruce, barefooted, in sweatpants with his shirt untucked. He looked confused and unkempt as he stood uncertainly on the threshold. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Hey Baby," she smiled, "Morning."

He glanced at her and softened almost to a smile, "Hi."

"There's hot water on the stove," Steve said, "or coffee, if you want that."

"Thanks."

Bruce sat silently between her and Steve, nursing one cup of tea and another of orange juice. At Natasha and Steve's joint insistence, Thor took the opposite place at the table.

"How is this season typically celebrated, amongst your people, if not in such manner as this?" he asked, settling his plate. "For Stark's invitation came as little surprise to me, as celebrations in Asgard are very similar, if not _longer_ in duration, than this."

Steve and Bruce both looked at her.

"Well," she started, "It's a little different depending on where you are,"

"Of course,"

Watching her intently, Thor settled himself to listen.

 **III.**

A shift in the air behind Natasha, interrupted her some time later and made her turn her head. On instinct, she stiffened. Then, calculating her response, she made herself relax. She did not turn again.

"Morning," she said.

Behind her, helping himself to the orange juice Bruce had left out on the counter, Loki ' _mmm_ -ed' noncommittally.

Thor stood, "Good morning my brother!"

"Yes," Loki said. He turned to face the room and spread his arms, giving a flourishing, if aped, bow, "Good morning, everyone. Thor, if I may,"

The room was not the largest of the kitchens in Avengers Tower, and it was a bit cramped with five of them there. Especially with Thor standing and his chair pushed out behind him as it was. The only other way out of the room was to cut behind Bruce, and Natasha had noticed that Loki did not like to settle himself especially close to Banner. Glancing at Bruce, she saw how he'd tensed, watching Loki. She smiled and patted the hand that rested on his knee under the table.

Giving them half a glance as he brushed past Thor, Loki caught himself. He scoffed and muttered something sarcastic about 'revels.' Thor grinned at him – a gesture Natasha noticed that Loki deliberately ignored. She wondered if it secretly pleased him, since clearly his comment had been directed at his brother, and only him.

"Pancakes on the counter," Steve said amicably, "and the coffee should still be hot."

"Mm," Loki said, "I thank you." He inclined his chin just barely in recognition of Steve's offer, then promptly turned on his heel and left the room.

Thor's face fell.

"Well," Banner said. "There's somebody else who's not a morning person."

Through stories Thor had told, and the brief, infrequent, glimmers Loki himself let slide, Natasha thought she might have caught glimpses of the boy Thor assured them he'd been. She wondered about him. What it was he was still hiding. Through the years she'd grown to trust him in a fight – he'd been back-to-back with each of them enough times to ensure that she trusted him as far as his own freedom was concerned. And that _pivoted_ on his behavior towards what Thor called their 'mortal allies' – but day-to-day interactions were something different entirely. They had their own set of laws. And, as Loki was a strictly 'business' associate, those laws had yet to be tried.

He puzzled her.

"I…apologize for him," Thor said.

"Thor," Steve interrupted, "you don't have to do that."

"He wasn't always like this."

Steve gave a wry smile, "But family's family, right?"

Thor sighed, "He's unhappy,"

"So…" Bruce spread his hands, "what, he's just gonna sit in his room until he gets… _un-_ unhappy?"

"He will return," Thor said, "I suspect, once he has finished his Threkaefing."

Bruce started, " _Thhhr…_ " then trailed off, utterly lost. He looked at her and Natasha could only laugh.

Steve's eye danced as he looked at Thor. "Do I wanna ask?"

"Of course!" Thor laughed, "I had forgotten your assured ignorance. It is an exercise peculiar – almost exclusively – to those in Asgard who are possessed of in-born magic. Others," he hastened to add, "are permitted the learning of it, it is only that it does them not so much benefit."

"But it's not gonna…" Bruce asked, "…blow up the building?"

"Nay," Thor chuckled, "It's merely a series of bodily positions, which," he gestured with his hands, compartmentalizing as he spoke, "coupled with the breathing, better connects the body to the mind and," he laced his fingers, "binds both with the magic born within the blood. Our mother taught him. Often, in his youth they would train together…" He drifted, and, returning to himself with a little jerk, Thor shook his head, "It is an impressive discipline."

"Did you ever, try it?" Bruce asked. He had his eyes fixed on Thor and had tipped his head a little on one side.

Natasha smiled. She knew that he and Tony had been trying to figure out Loki's magic for years. Thus far, they'd only gotten riddles out of the brothers. She couldn't help suspecting that was largely due to Thor's obvious amusement with the endeavor, and Loki's disdain for it. Either way, she doubted Bruce and Stark would ever get the answers they sought from either of them.

"I?" Thor laughed, "It is too…passive…an art, for me."

"But you're telling us," Bruce asked resting on his elbows, "That magic like – like Loki has – can be…trained?"

"Yes. As any art, it must first be a discipline."

"What is…Is it _like_ anything we have _here_ , on…on Earth?"

"It sounds to me," Steve said, tongue-in-cheek, "that it's an awful lot like yoga."

"I'm," Thor frowned, "not familiar with this term."

"Basically it's what you described." Natasha told him.

"But that's…This isn't a new development?" Bruce looked to herself and Steve for support, "Isn't yoga supposed to make you more…?"

"Relaxed?" Steve supplied.

Bruce glanced at him, "Yeah…"

"Believe me," Thor answered them, "in his youth he was not as you know him," he trailed, looking at his hand on the table, "both for good and for ill."

Silence fell between them.

"Well," Natasha put both her hands on the tabletop. "If you'll excuse me, fellas, I think I'm gonna get properly dressed."

"Properly dressed?" Steve looked her up and down.

"You look fine," Bruce stammered, "You look… _great_ , in fact."

"Bruce," she said, "these are sweats."

Smiling softly she traced her fingertips across his shoulders as she made for the door.

 **IV.**

When she came back down, she found that the team had moved to the wider sitting room adjacent to the kitchen. The sun had risen, dispelling the shadows that had haunted it, and Steve had asked Friday to raise all the blinds to let it in. Thor was sitting with his elbows on the bar, holding a fresh cup of coffee that steamed in his hand, taking animatedly to Bruce, while Steve stood nearby, half interacting, and half watching the newsfeed from a screen discreetly set up in the corner, between the bar and the window.

Loki was sitting on a couch in the far back corner of the room, with a book in his hand, and a vacant look on his face that left Natasha uncertain whether he was reading, or only trying to _look_ like he was reading. Dismissing it as unimportant, she chose a place with equal surveillance of the surroundings and took the stool beside Bruce, facing out into the room with her elbows propped on the bar behind her.

Loki looked at her from across the room, without lifting his chin, in a way that made her think he hoped she wouldn't notice. She smirked back.

Scowling, he dropped his eyes to the page.

"So," she said demurely, "Clint's a while in coming."

"So's Stark," Steve glanced at her. "You're not off yet. Unless you want to back out."

Steve noticed something behind her, and she turned.

"Speak of the devil," Bruce murmured.

It was Clint. Bleary-eyed and sock-footed, he made a bee-line for the counter where Thor had left the mostly-full pot of coffee, picked the entire pot up off the counter, and took a drink.

Then he turned to survey the room.

"Morning Everyone," he croaked.

"Good morning, Barton," Thor said.

"I didn't say it was good," Clint told him, "I only said it was morning."

"Barely," Bruce answered, giving his watch a quick look. Then he nodded at Clint's coffee pot. "Nice mug."

Clint raised it to eye level. "Thanks," he decided.

"Morning, Clint," Natasha smiled.

Setting the pot back onto the bar, Clint sagged against it. He rubbed his eyes. "I don't know how you guys do it," he gave a wry chuckle.

Steve smirked, "Can't get drunk."

Clint lowered his hand, "Was I _that bad_?"

"You made fast friends with the lamp," Loki's voice drew their attention. He barely looked up from his book, "If memory serves, you named it 'Monica.'"

Sure enough, a lamp that stood behind an armchair across the room was wearing the same hat Clint had worn the night before at a rather jaunty angle.

"Alright _you_ ," Clint pointed at Loki, "can just shut up," he sagged against the counter.

Steve was laughing at him.

"You too. All of you," Clint groaned. " _I'm_ not some god-like being. I'm just a human! And _we humans_ , have limits." Blearily, he looked at Natasha, "I know better than to ask you?"

"I know better than to drink so much," she smiled.

Clint stuck out his tongue at her. Then swiveled his head, "Banner, help me out,"

Bruce shrugged, "I don't drink," he said.

"You did too!" Clint protested, pushing himself to his feet. "I saw you!"  
"He only had one, Clint," Natasha patted his arm, "and only after I coerced him."

Bruce looked at her, half-smiling, "Yeah," he drawled, "you really twisted my arm."

"Tasha," Clint squinted at her, "whose side are you _on_?"

"In all fairness," she allowed, "I _ought to be_ on yours, since _you_ ," she glanced at Steve, "just won me a bet."

"Woah now," Steve raised both hands, "Hold up a second. I think you're calling it a little early."

"He speaks truth," Thor put in, "You have forgotten our host."

"Have I?" she asked. Giving a little smile, she looked them all over, got off her stool, and made for the door.

"Where…?" Bruce trailed.

" _Tasha_ ," Clint groaned. Then he swore. "Wait up."

Just for fun, Natasha took the stairs, all the way to the ground floor.

Bruce caught up with her in the lobby, where she'd chosen to wait, and to listen to the five of them as they jostled down the staircase behind her.

"So you, uh," he rubbed the back of his neck, "You don't think he's in his room, I gather."

"Nope."

Steve appeared next, followed by Clint and his pot of coffee. Then Loki, and Thor.

"What's all this about?" Steve asked.

Natasha didn't answer. She looked at Loki and raised one eyebrow. "You took the stairs?"

"Thor threatened to drag him." Clint said.

Looking back and forth between the brothers, Natasha believed it.

"Tony's," Bruce turned to look over the lobby, "not here, Natasha."

Without saying anything, Natasha made for the door.

" _Nat_ ," Clint groaned. She heard him set his coffee pot down on the desk by the door, "The mystery thing is _over_. Can't we just..."

"If you don't wanna come out in your pajamas," she smirked over her shoulder, "then don't."

She heard Clint sigh. "Wait up," he said again.

Steve chuckled.

"Come, Brother,"

"Get _off_."

Ignoring them, Natasha led the way out of the Tower into the morning sunlight. A slight, icy wind blew. She regretted not grabbing a coat. The road was less busy than she'd expected. She led the others across the street before she turned and put one hand up to shield her eyes, directing them to the top of Avengers Tower.

"There." She pointed.

"Where?" Bruce draped a coat around her shoulders.

Bringing a startled hand up to catch and hold it closed at the neck, she smiled at him.

He didn't notice, so, after a minute, she followed his gaze back to the top of Avengers Tower.

Clint hugged himself, looking up at the Tower. Natasha thought his Angry Birds pajama pants were probably a little thin.

"And what to my wondering eyes," Bruce said.

"Son of a gun."

"Woah, Cap," Clint said, "You sure the situation merits that kind of language?"

"You know what, Barton?"

Natasha smirked at Steve, "You should never have doubted me."

"Whatever he's been doing," Bruce said, "I think he's finished."

The tiny figure, glinting red and gold in the sun, had flown back a number of yards, as though to survey whatever it was that it had done.

Steve turned to her, "Did you see him out the window?"

" _I_ did." Loki interrupted.

Natasha looked at him.

"We've seen him," he scowled. "Now let's go back inside."

Thor looked at him and frowned, "What is the hurry? Are you cold?"

"No I'm not cold."

Thor raised his arm.

"And don't touch me."

Loki stalked six paces further from him, and Thor lowered his arm back to his side.

"Seriously," Steve turned back to face her, "How did you know?"

"I did work for him for a while," she said.

"It would appear he's noticed you." Loki said dryly.

The tiny figure above them, waved. Expansively, it gestured with both arms toward the Tower.

"Yes…" Thor muttered, "We see the Tower…"

"Oh for the love of –" Loki rolled his eyes, "He wants you to see what he'd done _to_ _it_."

"I know that." Thor levelled a disapproving look at him, then slowly raised his face back to the Tower, "But even my eyes cannot see so far unaided. Barton –"

"Negative." Clint told him, "It's a nic-name."

"I'm pretty sure we'll all know in a minute," Bruce said.

It started at the top, and they barely noticed it at first.

"Did he…?" Steve squinted.

Then the entire Tower flickered once, and lit up. Every balcony, every window and ledge, was strung with ropes of green or red lights. The Avengers logo flashed on and off, then slowly caught and rose and gleamed a ruddy gold.

Two cars screeched on their breaks, then righted themselves and went on their way. A man half-climbed out of the back window of one of the cars to take a picture of the Tower with his phone.

"Ah-ha!" Thor clapped his hands, "That must be it!" he beamed.

Loki stood very still with his arms folded and was very quiet. He closed his eyes.

Natasha wanted to laugh at him. But she bit her tongue. Working with Tony Stark, and having been friends first with Clint, and then later with Thor, she empathized utterly with the expression on his face. And she knew one or two others who also might.

She surprised herself by thinking that Loki and Pepper might actually get along.

"Well, there it is," Steve said.

"Wow," Bruce recovered, "that's…festive?"

Pedestrians murmured and pointed. Several stopped to take pictures with their phones. One of them was pretending to take a picture of the Tower while he was, in fact, furtively filming the six of them.

"He's landing," Thor informed them.

"Well, let's go meet him," Natasha said.

Tony met them as they came in, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, wiping grease off his hands with a rag.

"Look who's been busy," Natasha said. Bruce helped her off with the coat and hung it for her. "Thanks," she smiled at him.

The others came in behind the two of them, rubbing their arms to get warm, marveling at the cold.

Stark smirked, "Went outside to enjoy the view? How's _that_ for a 'big ugly building in New York'?"

"Yeah…" Bruce answered.

Steve hung his head, "You're never gonna forgive me that one."

"Depends what you say next. You like it?"  
"It's nice, Tony," Steve smiled.

"Yeah, real nice," Bruce agreed. "I just wish you woulda warned us. I would've brought sunglasses."

"Yeah, well. As a great general once told me, overkill is underrated." Tony went behind the desk and brought out a cup. He poured coffee from Clint's pot into it. "You liked that," he took a swig. Natasha thought to stop him, but didn't. "Wait until you see what's coming _inside_."

Clint hopped up onto the desk beside Tony and reclaimed his coffee pot.

Bruce chuckled wryly as he looked at the ceiling. "Why do I have this sudden sick feeling?" he asked.

"And how are you awake?" Clint lowered the pot onto his lap.

"Because your green guy is secretly the Grinch." Tony deadpanned. Then he turned to Clint. "And that's easy. Didn't go to sleep. So it's kinda more like, 'how _aren't_ you, up so _late_?'" He raised his mug, noticed Clint's, thought about that for a moment, shrugged, and drank from his mug.

"Does he really count as being up last, if he never went to bed?" Steve asked her.

Natasha looked up at him, "Just give me the win, Rogers. It's not like we bet anything."

Laughing, Steve conceded. "Next time, Romanoff…"

"I was up _long_ before all you lazy bones," Tony continued. "And I ordered some greenery – and not your kind," he eyed Bruce, "to spruce the place up before the others arrive. You guys hungry? I'm hungry. Good night's work will do that to you. You're all…good," he looked them over, "good. Barton, dress." He snapped him fingers. "We're going for breakfast."

 **Natasha stealing other people's clothing is because the striped hoody she wears in** _ **Winter Soldier**_ **is the same one that Tony's wearing (I think) in** _ **Iron Man 2**_ **(I may be mistaken. I watched them all at once and only penciled in 'steals clothes' as a note).**

 **The arrow necklace is one she wears in** _ **Age of Ultron**_ **. Marvel legend goes that it was Scarlet Johansen's idea, to signify Natasha's friendship with Clint.**

 _ **Threkaefing**_ **is something I made up on the insistence that Loki do Yoga. I based the word on…Icelandic? Or Norwegian. I don't remember. I used Google/translate and made something up, because the word 'yoga' doesn't translate.**

 **And the general Tony mentions is Hannibal from** _ **The A Team.**_ **I saw it twice over the summer, and loved it so much more than I expected to. It's my headcanon that Hannibal sometimes does jobs under the table for Fury. Possibly he and Stark have met. Stark handled Stain at the end of** _ **Iron Man**_ **, but maybe The A Team got rid of the terrorists.**

 **Or, alternatively, maybe Tony saw the movie and has accepted the headcanon himself.**

 **Either way.**

 **Merry Christmas to all if I don't post again before!**


	4. The Season's Upon Us

Natasha sat curled in the armchair by the window, looking out at the expanse of soft, grey afternoon sky that spread over the city. Far below, she saw the trucks, and Stark, directing the workmen. They were three hours later than they had promised with his greenery, and he was not happy about it. She could see his arms waving as he paced on the sidewalk and directed them to different rooms or floors of the Tower.

The corner of her mouth slid toward a smile.

Behind her, there was the pleasant humming murmur of voices. No frantic clicking of monitors, or march of regulated steps. No rush of jets coming or leaving. No expectations.

It had been too long since she'd taken leave from the base.

Clint's phone rang and he got up from the couch, tugging his phone from his pocket as he went, "Hey Honey…" He vanished out into the hall.

Steve remained on the couch, beside Wanda. She'd arrived only a few minutes before. She'd smiled at everyone as she'd come in, leaving bags of various grocery items behind the bar, but Natasha was unconvinced that she was happy to be here. There was something restless in the way she moved. Her hair was loose and she wore all black, with a red shawl draped around her shoulders, and silver jewelry slung around her neck and fingers.

Natasha had watched as both Steve and Clint had moved to establish their protection of her, each settling on one side of the couch she'd chosen and dragging their conversation along with them.

Beyond, in the wider room, Thor was sprawled on a couch of his own, "No," he was saying, "we did not find any, though none of us would have said if we had, else Stark would never have let us rest."

Sam laughed, "Sounds like Tony. Hey, you want anything?" he gestured back across the room with his thumb to the bar.

Loki stood on the far side of the bar, resting with his elbows on the wood and a drink in front of him, placidly watching the rest of them, taking in the quiet much as Natasha was doing. He was very still, and very blank as he watched, and Natasha wondered what went on in his head. She was slightly peeved at her inability to read him. She brought her knee up and rested one elbow on it.

Bruce had gone to lie down. After breakfast Tony had demanded that they tour the city, looking for a single place that had a light display to rival his own, and the subway had been a bit much for him.

"So…" she heard Steve try for the third or fourth time to start a conversation with Wanda, "how's school?"

Wanda tipped her head, almost smiling. "School's fine." She said. Then she moved her hand and the red tendrils of her magic gathered around it. She sent them across the room to the countertop of the bar, where a book was resting. She brought the book back to Steve and set it in his lap.

Steve looked at it, and looked at her.

Rising, Wanda smiled thinly. She patted his hand.

"Um," Steve shifted, "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." She went over to look out of the window.

The display had caught everyone's attention. Loki was amused, as was Sam, who was just coming out from behind the bar.

"Never gets old, Man," he chuckled. Natasha heard him pop the can he'd taken from the fridge. He leaned against bar, across from Loki, "You know," he took a drink, "One of these days, we should have the two of you fight."

Loki set his glass down and looked at him. "What?"

"You and Wanda," Sam laughed, "Just for fun, like a…wizard battle or something."

Loki regarded him for a beat, then very firmly said, "No."

"Get us all in the spirit, you know, a little red, a little green…"

Natasha watched with no little amusement as Loki revised his opinion of Sam Wilson to something distinctly less favorable.

"I'm just kidding, Man," Wilson laughed, "Are you really always like this?"

Loki favored him with a smile so sarcastic Stark would've been jealous, "I _used_ to amuse myself with world subjugation."

"Oh ha ha," Wilson said, "very funny. Thor, is he always this much fun?"  
Thor was still lying on the couch, flicking through some magazine he'd found. He only flicked a glance at Sam, "Yes."

Shaking her head, Natasha noticed that Steve was quiet, and she turned to see that he was watching Wanda, who remained standing, with one arm about herself and the other hand raised to her mouth, looking out the window. From her eyes, Natasha could tell she wasn't seeing the city.

Thor got up and went over to the bar. Loki poured him a drink.

"You know what," she heard Sam's voice from behind her. "I don't know how Tony drinks this stuff. I'm going downstairs, anybody want anything?"

Turning in her chair, Natasha peered down at the ground below at the traffic and the work trucks. She stretched one arm above her head and sighed. "I hope it snows," she said, to no one in particular. "It feels more like Christmas when it snows."

Steve gave her a relieved smile.

"I always loved the snow," Wanda murmured. "Pi –" she paused, and she glanced down. Then she glanced at Natasha and looked back out at the city, speaking more firmly, "Pietro and I, would go out to play in it. My mother always told us that Christmas snow, was magical." A soft smile tugged at her mouth, "She told us that it sped the travels of _Ded Moroz_ and his _sanki_ …" she traced her fingers across the glass, "She told us so many stories…"

"His what?" Steve asked. He rubbed his hands together, elbows on his knees.

Startled, Wanda turned. She looked at Steve, then past him at Sam who had paused, and was leaning against the back of Steve's couch. She seemed surprised that they were listening. For one moment she only looked at them, her lips pressed thin. Then she closed her eyes and she put her back to the window, so that she faced the room. Delicately, she moved to a chair.

" _Ded Moroz_ ," she said, settling herself on one bent knee, "He is…Grandfather Frost. He rides a _sanki_ , pulled by white reindeer."

"A sled?" Steve asked.

"Yes," Wanda gave a thin smile. "Like a sled."

She raised graceful hands and traced images on the air, pictures of a red sleigh with golden bells, rushing through banks of snow, pulled effortlessly along by a white deer. An old man and a young girl stood within it.

Thor and Loki were talking in low voices, one leaning on either side of the bar. The images caught Thor's eye first. When Loki failed to notice it, Thor took his chin and turned his head towards them.

Wanda was not watching them. She moved her hands gently, manipulating the images.

Natasha shifted on her chair, "Kindof like Santa Clause," she explained.

Steve gave a slow nod. Sam didn't seem to have heard. Thor nodded, but she doubted that she'd helped it make any more sense to him, or to Loki. She thought their plight amusing.

"Yes," Wanda was watching her images, a little smile on her face. "Except that _Ded Moroz_ goes out with his little granddaughter, _Snegnrochka_."

"The Snow Maiden." Natasha did not know if she had ever seen Wanda so at ease. It made her smile.

"She helps him to deliver the presents to the children," Wanda said. Her voice softened, "I would make Pietro pull me around on his sled, so that I could be her."

The image faded, thinned, and fell away.

"He told me I couldn't," she said, "because her hair was gold. But he played along anyway." She let her hands fall into her lap.

"You must miss him," Steve said.

Natasha pressed her lips together, willing Steve to stop.

"I do," Wanda said curtly. She laced her fingers together.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she gave a thin smile.

Steve did not seem to understand the tone. "If you ever want to talk," he started.

Natasha folded her hands, uncertain if Steve would respond better to mockery or some kind of sudden physical assault. He meant well. She knew he did. He was too pure for his own good and it would only drive Wanda further back.

Feeling the pressure of someone watching, Natash glanced up and saw Loki. He regarded her with his mouth quirked in one corner. He understood exactly what it was she was thinking, and he found it funny.

She glanced aside at Thor, who was staring at his own hands, a serious, set look to his mouth. It was the same look he'd worn those few times when they had spoken of Loki while Thor had believed him to be dead.

Loki followed her gaze and rolled his eyes.

"I know what it's like to lose somebody," Steve was telling Wanda, "Not that I have answers,"

"I know."

Wanda said it a little harshly. And Steve took the hint. He raised his hands, "Okay," he said.

Natasha turned better to face him, "Things a lot different," she asked him deliberately, "from when you were a kid?"

Steve sat back and the look he gave her made Natasha think he saw what she was doing. He raised his eyebrows and let out a long breath. "I mean," he said, "Not as much as you might expect. All the same things, just…All of it was done differently. There's more focus on gifts now, less on giving them, if that makes any sense."

"It is odd, this giving of gifts," Thor said from the bar. "In Asgard we have no such tradition."

"Alright," Sam clapped his hands against the back of the couch, "I'm really going this time, before this gets weird. Anybody want anything while I'm downstairs?"

"I'm good," Natasha said.

"Anybody else?"

Steve and Wanda shook their heads.

"Alright fine. Be back in a bit."

Steve turned to look at Thor, "You _have_ Christmas?"

"Not 'Christmas', exactly," Thor set down his glass used one hand to put quotes around the word.

Natasha noticed Loki roll his eyes.

She smirked.

"But something like it?" Steve asked.

"We do indeed," Thor smiled, "In fact, my brother tells me that many of your Yuletide traditions stem from it."

"Oh, leave _me_ out of it," Loki muttered.

"Why don't you tell us about it, Thor," Natasha suggested.

"There is much that could be told…"

"Seems like we've got time," Steve looked around at all of them for approval.

"Very well then," Thor decided. He came around the room and took a seat beside Steve on the couch.

Loki was watching incredulously from behind the bar.

"Your _Yule Logs_ , for one," Thor began, "are not so different. And this idea," he raised one hand to indicate the boughs that had been festooned about the upped edges of the room, "of bringing trees within one's home. In, Asgard," he was resting his elbows on his knees and gestured openly with his hands, "as the days grow more cold, the ancient winters of our forefathers are remembered, and a great tree is chosen…"

Loki finally shook his head, took the last of his drink, set his glass on the bar, and left the room. Thor was momentarily distracted. Steve followed his look, then glanced at Natasha with his brows raised. She shook her head. She didn't deem Loki a threat at this time.

Steve accepted her assessment.

"A…great tree is chosen," Thor readjusted himself, "to symbolize _Yggdrasil_. You all," he looked at them searchingly, "You all know of _Yggdrasil_?"

Watching with her thumb nail in her teeth, Wanda gave a slow nod.

"Well," Steve chuckled, "More or less."

Natasha bobbed her head.

Thor smiled. "Well," he said. "The branches are all sawn off and the entire trunk," he held out his arms to indicate the size, "is hauled into the very center of the City itself. Runes of protection," he said, "and of prosperity are carved into its bark and the people may come and they draw – wishes, if you will – in among the rest. Then they go out and they gather boughs to lay across their doorways or to burn on their hearths, to draw the luck of the Yule Tree within their homes."

"That must really be a massive tree," Steve said.

"Oh it is," Thor answered, "The largest the AllFather's scouts can find. What remains of it is brought within the palace, and is burned through the…ah…the Drinking of _Jol_."

"Nothing like Asgardian revels," Clint commented from the doorway.

Wanda hadn't heard him coming. Her hand dropped a little and a smile brushed her eyes. She hid it the next moment, but Natasha had seen it, as had Clint.

"Barton!" Thor beamed, "Come," he beckoned, "Come."

Chuckling, Clint came in to join them, "What'd I miss?"

"They all asked for tales of Asgard's holiday traditions,"

"We really begged him," Natasha said.

Clint and settled himself on the arm of her chair. The side that was nearer Wanda.

"I can move," Natasha offered.

"I'm good," he shrugged.

"Yes," Thor said, "And revels are an integral part of every feast. Most especially the _Jol_."

"Sounds like my kind of party," Sam said, returning with the things he'd found, "What are we talking about?"

Wanda looked at her nail, " _Jol_."

Sam frowned.

"Asgardian Christmas," Natasha explained.

"Gotcha." Sam put a beer from the bag he'd brought on the counter, then tossed one to Clint.

"Please," Thor said, "Join us."

"Will do." Sam bent and put the beers in the fridge.

"And your custom of stockings," Thor continued, "Steve was telling me of it earlier. That is something we have in common as well. On the first day of the _Romjol_ , when the Great Tree is felled, the children all leave out their shoes, in hopes that the _Jolasveinarnir_ –"

"The –" Steve shook his head, holding up one hand, "You've lost me."

"Yeah," Sam nodded. He lowered himself slowly onto the couch, watching Thor suspiciously, "likewise."

"Roughly translated…" Thor considered, "Yule Lads," he decided. "They are the sons of trolls who live in the mountains and come down," he made his fingers walk in the air, "but once a year, leaving gifts behind for all the good children as they come." He held one hand palm up and pretended to hide something inside of it with the other. Then he realized that no one understood what he was doing. "In their shoes," he explained.

"So wait," Clint coughed, squinting as he lowered his beer, "They're real?"

Thor laughed, "Barton," he said, "It is a tale told for children."

"Well," Steve said, "we can never be certain these days, Thor. Not that long ago most of us thought _you_ were a tale for children."

"Yeah, those of us who had even _heard_ of you." Sam muttered. "No offense."

"None taken. It is true enough…" Thor laughed, "That _is_ true enough."

"So you're telling me," Sam said. "That even _Asgard_ has its own idea of Santa Clause?"

"I know not. Loki would know better than I." Thor glanced behind to where Loki had been standing, but he was still absent.

"Leaves presents for good children," Clint waved one hand, "Lives where it's cold." He wavered on his perch and caught himself.

Natasha eyed him, "I can still move."

"I'm good."

"I don't want you falling on me, Barton."

"That's near enough," Thor nodded his head. "It seems we –"

"We're leaving." Loki plunged into the room.

Thor straightened.

Natasha tensed.

"Why, Brother," Thor said, "What has happened?"

Loki's eyes flashed. "You didn't think to tell me?" he snarled, "Even you're not fool as that."

"Tell you…" Thor frowned, he looked to Steve, then Natasha, then back at Loki, "What?"

"You know very well who!"

Thor looked at him for one moment, utterly bemused, then the look faded and changed, and slowly all the tension left him, and he began to smile. Natasha had grown to trust Thor's judgement, especially where Loki was concerned, but she relaxed only marginally.

Loki watched this progression, his own temper cooling to a tight jaw and a scowl. He folded his arms. "It's not funny, Thor."

Clint watched the two of them, his face very blank.

Thor nodded his head, considering. "I think that is purely a matter of opinion," he decided. His eyes sparkled.

Movement from the corner of her eye caught Natasha's attention. But far from readying to strike, she saw that Wanda had relaxed, rolling her eyes and settling her chin in her palm as she turned her attention again to the window.

Loki gave an impatient breath, "I demand you take me home."

Frowning, Natasha looked to Steve.

"Wait," Steve said, putting up his hands, "What is happening?"

Neither Thor nor Loki paid him any attention.

Leaning back against the couch, Thor traced a finger around the rim of his glass, "You swore," he smiled.

"At the time," Loki answered, his voice the low purr that Natasha recognized from mission. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. " _I_ had no idea that _he_ would be here. And _you_ did. You _deliberately_ misled me and thus," he flicked one wrist, "our accord is rendered null and void."

Thor did not look at him. " _I_ , did not," he said lowly. "And even if I had, Stark is Host, and, as such, has the right to invite whomever he chooses into his home." Shifting in his seat, Thor turned his face up to look at his brother, "I was just telling them," he continued, placidly, "about the _Jolasveinarnir_ , and Samuel,"

Sam made a face.

"was wondering if they are anything akin in concept to their 'Santa Clause'."

Loki did not break eye contact with Thor, but stood beside the couch with his arms folded and face blank. His eyes glowed.

"No," he said finally, "Unless their 'Santa Clause' capers about for a month or more, causing mayhem where goods are not left him."

"We…" Clint blinked, glancing at Natasha, then at Wanda, "leave…cookies…I guess…"

"Mm." Loki still did not look away from Thor, "More alike than I realized. Now. Thor –"

"Wait," Sam interrupted.

Natasha saw Loki's mouth press thin. Her hand tightened on the armrest of her chair.

Sam did not appear to notice, "Wait _one minute_ ," he set his beer on the coffee table, "Let me see if I get this straight. Kids in Asgard leave…food, out for these…trolls, every night for a _month_ and _they_ , leave the kids presents, _every time_?"

"No." Loki turned to face Sam, "The presents come once. The rest is bribery to keep the damages done to a minimum." He gave Sam a thin, sarcastic smile.

"And the parents," Clint looked at both Thor and Loki skeptically.

Thor smiled encouragement.

Loki had turned back towards his brother and was staring at Thor, with his mouth a gash in his face.

"As a dad, I'm curious–" Clint said, "The parents just _go along with it_? For a _month_?"

"Damn," Sam looked at him, "I thought one night was hard enough."

"Well –" Thor chuckled amiably.

Loki interrupted him, "The difference being that your 'Santa Clause' is a fable for children. Thor –"

"Wait," Sam choked on a laugh.

Natasha saw Loki's hand close into a slow fist.

"Guys…" she murmured.

"So, you're saying, that you believe your 'Christmas Boys' – or whatever – are real?"

Loki swiveled his head to look at him, "Of _course_ they are."

Sam started laughing, and Loki frowned. "Never mind. Thor," he rounded on his brother, "We're leaving."

"No," Thor traced his finger in a ring of condensation on the tabletop, dragging the moment out. Loki made no perceptible move, but his eyes glinted brighter and more deadly with every passing second. Thor raised his head and looked at him, "We're not."

"You do not get to lie to me." Loki said, low and dangerous. "Not again. You knew he would be here, and we are going home."

Thor snorted, "I do _not_ lie," he said, giving Loki a quick upward glance, "certainly not to you and you _know_ that. Stark informed me that he had assembled the _Avengers_. No more," he offered Loki a little smile, "and no less."

Loki only looked at him. His jaw clenched. Natasha assumed that his lack of further argument must mean that he thought Thor was telling the truth.

"What _is_ it that's got you so fired up?" Steve asked.

Loki rounded on him, "Silence!" he shouted, eyes flashing, "I will not take this from you. _Any of you_!"

"Loki always liked the stories Mother would tell about the _Jolasveinarnir_ ," Thor said implacably, "For several years," he rubbed his chin, "I think he rather fancied himself to _be_ one."

"Shut _up_!"

"I must confess, Brother," Thor tipped his chin up, "I do not understand what has gotten you so upset."

"Oh don't _you_ –" Loki's hands were fists again, and green tendrils were forming around them.

" _Guys_ ," Natasha said, louder this time.

"No, I do not," Thor coolly cut him off, "Also," he looked at the group, dismissing his brother entirely, "your custom of a sleigh –"

"Will you _stop that_?"

"Well aren't we in the Christmas spirit," a voice interrupted.

Tony looked them all over, with his eyebrows raised like he was wondering how they could be so ill-bred. He stood in the doorway, with his latest guest behind him.

Natasha recognized the man standing behind Stark from the News. Recognizing him, she began to understand why Loki might have become so upset. Her muscles uncoiled as she started to smile.

"All right," Tony clapped his hands, "Now that I've got everyone's attention. Guys, _ladies_ , I'd like to introduce _Doctor_ Stephen Strange," he gripped the man by the back of both shoulders, maneuvering the stranger into the room, "Emphasis on the _doctor_ , everyone."

Stephen gave a shrugging kind of smile, raising one hand in a little wave, "Hello, everyone."

"Former-brain surgeon, turned..." Stark grimaced, "magician after an unfortunate…texting-while-driving accident." He raised one finger, looking from face to face, "They really do happen, people, and not everyone gets super powers afterwards. _Wanda_."

She smiled mirthlessly.

Tony clapped the man on the shoulder, "He's a new/old friend of mine. I expect everybody to play nice. What's your title again now?"  
"I am," the man hesitated, "…Master of the New York Sanctum," he decided, reluctantly.

"Yup," Stark patted his shoulder again, "Magic. So, he's stationed here in New York. Strange," he gestured expansively at the room, "Avengers. Avengers," he tipped one hand to his guest, "Dr. Strange."

Steve had gotten up and he went forward, holding out a hand, "Dr. Strange," he said, "It's an honor."

"Likewise," he smiled, "Captain America."

"Thor you know," Tony said.

"Well met, Stephen Strange!" Thor grinned, "It has been some time."

The man inclined his head, "Too long, Thor."

"And Loki – something tells me you've met _him_ before too," Tony pointed, "hackles down, Boy," to Strange he said, "He doesn't bite…eh," he shrugged, "much. These days. Dad's got him on a, _eh_ , short leash."

Loki was standing rigidly beside the couch where Thor was sprawled. He'd folded his arms. "Strange," he said, without inclining his chin an inch.

Strange seemed to find this funny. His mouth twitched as he tipped his head, "Loki."

"Dr. Banner should be here someplace," Tony searched.

"He went to his room." Natasha supplied.

"He _went to his room_." Tony repeated incredulously, "Slacker. That one's Natasha – or, as she usually introduces herself, 'Miss Rushman'. _Don't_ ," he leaned in conspiratorially, "trust her."

"You ever gonna let that go?" Natasha smiled at him.

"Mm," Stark grimaced, "No. Wanda –"

"We've met." She only looked briefly in Strange's direction. She was worrying at one nail, looking out the window distractedly.

"Ooo-kay. Story there," Tony decided. "And I expect to hear it. Later. That's Barton… Wilson… I'm tired of this. They'll introduce themselves."

He pivoted, lifting one foot as he turned to go behind the bar, but abruptly caught himself and whirled back, his face suddenly drawn as though in pain or intense anxiety.

Natasha tensed.

"Where the _hell_ ," Tony asked, gripping the side of the bar with one hand, "is Scott? He was here. I _saw_ him."

"I left Tic-Tac downstairs," Sam said, raising one hand, "Don't worry about him. He's fine. On the phone with his…wife or something."

Sam and Steve went on to explain to the bemused sorcerer the drawbacks of Ant Man's abilities, while Tony rubbed a hand up and down his face muttering questions as to why no one ever told him those things.

"But we gotta go back," Sam said.

"Thor was telling us about the Asgardian equivalent of Christmas," Steve told Strange.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, "And it was just getting interesting," he grinned, dropping onto the couch, "what with Loki still believing in Santa Clause and all."

Clint snorted a laugh.

"Shut up." Loki snarled. Turning on his heel he paced stiff-legged toward the door.

"Aw, come on," Sam laughed, turning to call after him, "I was just playing,"

"Uh-uh." Stark put out one arm to block Loki's path. "Nobody leaves till I see Scott."

Loki stopped rigidly inches from Tony's outstretched arm. "Stark," he growled, "Let. Me. _Pass_."

"Mmmnope." Tony shook his head, "No can do."

"You have _no right_ –"

"Mm," Tony tipped his head and raised one finger, " _Host's_ right. If I, remember, correctly. Thor, do I remember correctly?"

Thor chuckled.

"You stay out of this," Loki hissed at Thor.

"You," Tony snapped his fingers dangerously near Loki's face, "Hey. Front-and-center. Thank you. My house. My rules. Find a seat."

Loki levelled a look at him. "Fine." He spat. And between one moment and the next, he'd vanished from the spot, and appeared on the far side of the room, beside an armchair that Natasha noted had both a good view of the rest of the room and was simultaneously removed from everyone else. She wasn't surprised.

"Not to mention," Tony blinked, recovering from the momentary surprise such displays still elicited, "my appallingly _tiny_ compatriot who is easily…step-on-able."

Natasha watched as, stiffly, Loki lowered himself onto the seat, and turned his head to look out the window and very publicly ignore everyone else.

At Stark's direction, Strange came into the room, taking a place near Wanda. Natasha watched the quick surprise that flared in her eyes, then the smile that she just as quickly hid with her hand and a quick toss of her head.

"What I'm curious about," Steve said, settling himself back on the couch, "Thor, is what your Yule, or Yole or whatever it is you call it…is actually about. You see," he rubbed the back of his neck, "Christmas – as it's shown commercially – is all about Santa Clause and the Christmas Tree. But at its roots it's the celebration of the birth of – well – of the God-Man, come to Earth to save…" he gestured vaguely, "humanity, I guess. I'm," he looked at Thor almost apologetically, "not sure how much of this you know,"

Thor was sitting back on the couch, pensive as he stroked his beard, "Yes," he nodded his head, "Yes. The history you speak of is not wholly...strange…to me." Searching the room he found the sorcerer, "No offense intended, my friend."

Across the room, sprawled in the armchair, Loki scoffed.

Strange gave him an obliging smile, "None taken, Thor."

Shaking his head, Loki got up and went across the room to the bar. He slid dangerously close to Tony, who was braced in the doorway, blocking it as completely as he could and glaring suspiciously at him. Loki didn't so much as make eye contact.

"History?" Clint asked, bringing Natasha back. She shifted in the chair, leaning back against the smooth leather as she coaxed herself to relax. "Not 'legends' or 'myths'. You mean _you_ – the 'God of Thunder' – buy all that?"

Thor looked at him with a small frown. "You don't?"

Natasha craned her neck back to look at Clint as he answered.

He raised his hands like a surrender, "All I'm saying is that it seems a little unlikely for you…" he gestured with one hand, then, losing his drift, he laughed. "Considering your…station…" he explained.

"Yeah," Sam said, "I get where he's going."

"Ah," Thor nodded his head, "I see." He stared pensively into the bottom of his glass.

Behind the bar, Loki was pouring scotch. He served himself a glass. A full glass.

"Woah now," Tony said, "Isn't that a bit much? Even for you?"

"Hush now," Loki purred, moving the bottle on the bar out of Tony's reach. The smile he flashed was sticky-sweet, "The grown-ups are talking."

"Well," Thor said, as though coming to a decision.

Loki rested his elbows on the bar and watched him.

Thor raised his head. He looked at all of them. "What grounds have I not to believe?"

Furtively looking at Loki and stretching out his arm as far as he could so as to maintain contact with the doorframe, Tony leaned over, then snatched out a hand to steal back the scotch. Still watching Loki suspiciously, he hid the bottle on the shelf nearer him behind a stack of dusty books. "Is very bad to steal Jobu's rum," he muttered.

Loki did not turn his head or give any sign that he'd noticed, but Natasha could have sworn she saw one corner of his mouth twitch.

Tossing her head a little to shake off her own impulse to laugh, she turned her attention back to Thor.

"'Believe'? That's a strong word." Steve was saying. He looked impressed.

"Perhaps," Thor mused. "But you see," spreading his hands, he smiled, "it bears little consequence for me either way."

Steve sat a little straighter.

"Oh here it comes," Sam laughed.

"I don't know if I buy that," Steve said. He glanced at the others, "Just one second guys. Now," he turned his attention back to Thor, "I don't claim to be anything I'm not. I'm just a boy from Brooklyn whose mom took him to Church. And I get that people had no idea you even existed back then. But I was under the impression that Jesus Christ came for all. Not just all _humans_ , but all who are – you know," he gestured a little vaguely, " _alive_."

Thor nodded. "Indeed," he said, "that would be quite generous of him. And perhaps he did. But the Nine Realms are ruled by many forces." He held up one hand, "I do not say many gods, but many _forces_. Perhaps your Christian God is one of them, perhaps ruler of them all. I know not, nor do I care. Perhaps it is not the best way," he allowed, "but I know my place in the Realms, and I know my purpose. Is that…explanation enough for you?"

"Okay," Steve sat back. "Yeah," he nodded, "I think it is."

"Weirdly enough," Clint glanced down at Natasha, "That actually makes…sense." He swiveled his head to look at Loki, "Are you in on this too?"

Loki was looking up at the ceiling. Languidly, he closed his eyes. "Every word," he drawled.

Natasha thought about that for a moment. Then she smiled. "You missed your calling, Thor," she said. "You should have been a teacher."

Behind the bar, she heard Loki choke on his drink.

Her mouth tipped and she glanced up at Clint who nodded appreciatively.

Behind the sound of Loki's coughing, she heard Tony snort from the doorway, "Bet that burns, doesn't it Daddy?"

Thor smiled at her. Then he set his drink down once more on the coffee table and rested his elbows on his knees.

"In, Asgard," he rubbed his hands together, "we are ruled by a sequence of events that will eventually conclude with _Ragnarok_ , and, ultimately, begin anew. Much like the four seasons you suffer here."

"Barring the utter extinction of all beings _alive_ at the time," Loki muttered, "But yes, barring that inconsequential detail…"

Thor didn't seem to have heard him. "Come the _Jol_ ," he gestured openly with his hands, "we celebrate for three weeks – which is roughly equivalent to four of yours –"

Sam raised one hand, looking from Thor to Loki and back again, "How long is an Asgardian week?"

"Nine days," Loki said.

Sam looked at him dryly.

Loki did not break eye contact.

Sam shook his head, " _Of_ course."

Stark looked up from the screen of his phone. He had his back braced against one side of the doorframe, and his foot up against the other. "You surprised?" he asked. "They are _obsessed_ with nines. It's a…weird…Viking fetish."

"For three weeks," Thor continued, ignoring them, "we celebrate that cycle, and we do what we can, through ancient superstition and practice, to delay its culmination. The Day of the Tree is the beginning, but it is the final three," he held up three fingers, "those that take place at the very end of the _Romjul,_ that are the most important. Each bears its own aspect of the cycle we celebrate.

"The first," he said, "is the night of the _Jolaria_ – what some of your ancestors knew as the night of the…" floundering a little, he looked to Loki for help.

The look he leveled at Thor was somewhere directly between amusement and annoyance. "The Wild Hunt?" he said, finally. His brief altercation with Stark seemed to have drastically lightened his mood.

"Yes." Thor said. "The Wild Hunt. The AllFather leads all the men of the palace who are of age and can be spared on a hunt for _saehrimnir_ , which are a species not unlike the Midgardian boar, but nearer the size of a horse. Huge fires are burned, and the children dress as _nisser,_ or dwarves, or trolls to go _Julebukk_ door-to-door –"

"Yool-buck?" Wanda sat straighter. Her nose scrunched up on her face. She looked searchingly at Strange, tipping one palm, but he only shrugged.

Thor had been a little caught up in what he was saying. He blinked at Wanda for a moment.

Loki came lazily to his rescue, "Christmas-goating." He grimaced. "For lack of a better translation."

Natasha watched him, newly interested. She hadn't expected him to pitch in. She rubbed the back of her neck, flicking her fingers through the ends of her hair.

Sam turned, "Goating."

Loki was looking only at Wanda, "The children are sent door-to-door for…" he waved a noncommittal hand, "sweets."

Natasha wondered if he was jealous of all the attention Thor's lecture was gaining him, or if the Scotch was beginning to alter the more reticent aspects of his personality.

"So they go trick-or-treating." Tony said from the doorway. He glanced from his phone, "What?" he asked, "I'm listening."

Thor frowned at him, shaking his head, "I don't…"

Sam held up one hand to stop him, "Why the costumes?" he asked.

"Well," Thor laughed like that was obvious, "there are the _Jolasveinarnir_ , _draugr_ , and all manner of _smafolk_ about on that night, as the stories go. So, the children, who are of their size, dress accordingly, that they might not be harmed or taken by them. And _none_ ," he laughed, shaking his head, "go out after dark."

Clint set down his drink. "Drow- _what_?"

"Spirits of the dead." Strange translated.

They all looked at him.

He shrugged, "I come across a lot of languages in my…line of work."

"The esteemed citizens of Asgard go trick-or-treating." Tony repeated.

"Okay," Steve nodded like he was trying to find a way for that to make sense in his head, "Night One is…that," he smiled, "What's on Night Two?"

" _Modhranit_." Thor said proudly. "A celebration of the mother. All, life," he explained, punctuating the words with his hand, "begins with the mother. Each individual life, as well as the life of the Realms."

Tony turned his head against the wood of the doorframe to level a very dry look at Thor. "You go from Halloween to – and why is it I'm not surprised? – _Mother's Day_?" he gave a scoffing laugh. "And what, pray elaborate, the _hell,_ happened to the 'Spirits of the Damned'?"

"Yeah," Natasha shifted in her chair, "that does seem like a pretty drastic shift, Thor."

"You misunderstand," Thor said, "Motherhood, to us, is a fierce thing."

Sam whistled.

Loki gave him a disapproving look. "In our legends," he said. "Night is mother to Day, and Death to Life. The _Norns_ are mothers to Time, without which History would be impossible. Monstrous mothers can be…wooed, placated, to bring forth what is necessary for life. The 'Spirits of the Damned' birth the Spirits of Life," he looked sarcastically at Sam, "It's not some _insipid platitude_ on a greeting card."

From the doorframe, Tony was staring at him. Slowly, he raised one hand. "Over here," he said, "In the back."

Loki didn't turn his head. "Did you have a question, Stark?"

"Yeah," Tony said. "What is your mother _like_?" He laughed. He gestured at Thor, "I understand why you want to keep her happy. I mean, if this is what it takes, Buddy, I'm cool."

"Our Realm has none but its own strength to protect it," Loki snapped at Stark, his eyes flashing, "Unlike yours that _has_ protectors."

"Oh," Tony drawled, "Funny you – of all people – should bring that up. 'Cause Asgard's done _such_ a good job protecting us in the past."

"Stark," Thor growled.

"Woah, woah," Steve stood up, holding out his arms like he meant to hold the three of them apart, "That's enough guys. Now's not the time. Are we really gonna do this?"

"Do what?" Stark asked, "I'm not doing anything. I'm just," he lifted his phone and went back to studying it.

"Loki?"

Loki was leaning on the bar with his eyes fixed on the window and his teeth locked. He said nothing.

Glancing up, Natasha met Clint's look, and he shrugged.

Wanda was watching Loki with a peculiar look in her eyes, like the one she got when she was reading someone for the first time.

"Okay." Steve said. He turned back to Thor, "And I don't know if I even wanna ask, but what have you got," he sat back down, "up your sleeves for the Third Night?"

Thor was watching Tony, a spark smoldering in his electric eyes. But he turned his head, smoothing the look away as he looked at Steve. " _Nyarsdagur_ ," he said. "The birth of the New Sun, and, at nightfall, the sending away of the creatures of Night that have visited us for the _Romjul_." Lifting his glass with an air of finality, he took a drink.

"So," Strange shifted on his chair, crossing his legs, and resting his chin against his fist, "you celebrate Halloween, Mother's Day and New Year's Day, all under the name of a festival _we_ call "Christmas'?"

Thor looked at him. "Yes," he said.

"That's fascinating."

"We can say many things about them," Tony said, pocketing his phone and shifting in the doorway. "We can't say they're not efficient."

As he moved, a hand came around and tapped at his shoulder.

He yelped, jumping out of the way of Pepper, who stood in the doorway behind him.

"Don't _do_ that to me," he gasped, one hand to his chest. "And – just for future reference – that's _not_ ten minutes."

"Hello everyone!" Pepper greeted the room. She kissed Tony on the cheek as she passed him, coming to set a grocery bag down behind the bar.

"Stephen," she waved, letting her hair down, "Wanda, how are you?"

"You," Tony faltered. He almost let go of the doorframe to follow her before he remembered himself. "You _do_ know you very nearly scared the life out of me."

She moved in near him like an embrace, but Natasha was near enough that she heard her whisper, "When did you go to bed last night?"

"Didn't. Great Scott!" Tony exclaimed, straightening from the doorframe, "It's Scott!" He clapped an arm around Scott Lang's shoulders.

Lang gave a dry laugh and an awkward little wave, "Hi, everyone," he said.

"I thought I'd killed you," Tony told him, gripping his shoulder. "So, _so_ glad I was mistaken. You have no idea."

"Well, I'm," Scott gave a lop-sided smile, "glad not to be killed, Iron Man."

"Yeah, it's a lot of paper work." Tony led him into the room, "Thor was just telling us about Asgard-Christmas."

Pepper ran a hand through her hair, shaking it out. "You _have_ Christmas?" she asked.

Scott looked like a kid who had just been told that Disneyland was only the beginning, "Seriously?" he asked.

Thor nodded, "We do," he smiled politely, but Natasha felt that the joy had gone out of story-telling for him after their near-argument.

"Yes," Tony said. "And Mother's Day, and Halloween, and New Year's," he moved his hands like he was balling up a wad of papers, " _All at_ once!"

"Oh," Pepper looked from Thor, to Loki who was still standing on the inside of the bar with a sulky look on his face, "Oh my," she laughed. Then she thought of something and she looked in some concern at Thor, "Won't your mother miss you if you're…" she asked, "here?"

"Oh no," Thor shook his great blonde head, smiling amiably at her, "The _Joldrikkju_ is not for several weeks yet."

"The…" Scott started, then he shook his head, "Never mind. So…" he bounced on his heels, "…are we…?"

"Movie Night!" Tony decided. He set his glass down _hard_ behind the bar and moved out into the room. Walking backward, he pointed at Pepper, "My house, my rules,' he said. "And Thunder-Strike's never seen a Christmas Special, have you, Buddy?"

"No," Thor grinned, "No I have not."

"And what abou – Where'd he go?"

Loki had disappeared.

"I'll get him." Natasha said. She pushed her self half out of the chair. Tony was looking at her like she was out of her mind. "And Bruce," she recovered, giving a loose shrug. "You guys settle on what we're watching."

Tony snapped his fingers. "Excellent. Because all you guys need a serious dose of 'Christmas Spirit'. I've never seen a more doleful crowd. But I'm picking the Special."

She heard Pepper sigh, "Tony,"

"Okay. If High Kings get _prima nocta_ then I get Movie Pick. Is that really –"

As Natasha got up and went past Thor, he touched her hand. She paused.

"Thank you," he said.

Giving him a soft smile, she nodded her head.

* * *

 **Long chapter ;) Sorry it took so long for me to get it to you.**

 **Of the song's I've chosen for titles on this fic, this one is actually a song I like. It's by Dropkick Murpheys, for anybody interested.**

 **Two notes on the text: I wrote the draft for this last summer. The only thing I'd heard about the Loki/Dr. Strange relationship was that Loki was "unimpressed" with him. I thought it would be funnier this way.**

 **"Jol" came from a bunch of Wikepedia articles about Christmas/Yuletide traditions, coupled with an amazing site I found for those of us interested in Nordic traditions (htt*p:/*/freya.*the*lady*of*the*labyrinth.*com/?page_id=397) remove asterisks. It'll take you to the page I used for this chapter.**

 **Hope you all had a great Christmas and had/continue to have a wonderful New Year!**


	5. The Christmas Song

**I.**

"Friday?"

"Yes, Ms. Rushman?"

" _Stark_ ," Natasha gave a slight eye roll. "Any idea where Loki is?"

The AI paused. When it spoke next, it sounded uncertain. "…Loki? I don't think I have anyone by that name…"

Glancing behind her down the hall towards where Stark and the others were still gathered, Natasha's breath was close to being a laugh.

"I'm sorry…Is there anything else I can do?" the AI asked.

"Can you locate 'Reindeer Games' for me?"

"Sure thing… He's…three doors down on your left."

Checking in her steps, Natasha frowned. "On _this_ floor?"  
"…Yeah?" Friday said. "Is that bad?"

"No, just," she shook her head, resuming her march, "I thought he'd go farther. Thanks Friday."

"No prob."

The room that Friday had indicated was an old conference hall. The door stood ajar. Natasha touched it lightly with her fingertips, pushing it just a little forward.

The lights were off within the room, casting it in eerie shadow.

Figures that Loki would leave it dark, she thought.

Against the grey sky and the lights outside, she could see the silhouettes of a table, chairs, and a figure, standing with his back to the door.

The light from the hall was just enough to dim the view of the city coming to light outside of the window and to bring up a reflection of the room in the glass on top of it like some weird optical illusion.

Loki was watching her in it.

Natasha met the hard reflection of his eyes. But he said nothing, so, neither did she.

"Agent Romanoff," he acknowledged her after a moment, just barely inclining his chin, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

She slipped in and let the door hang behind her. "Stark sent me for you," she said.

His reflection closed its eyes, suppressing a sigh. "Did he."

Dawdling across the room, Natasha gave a low laugh. She traced her fingertips across the cold surface of the table as she slid past it.

Loki seemed momentarily startled by her response. He turned his head to face her.

Natasha didn't meet his eyes. She wasn't about to deny that Stark was exhausting, nor did she feel any pressing need to defend him. She came up next to Loki and folded her arms, looking out the windows at the lights as they flicked on across the street.

"Must I answer?" Loki asked, finally.

"Mmm, depends," she said lazily, "You _could_ lead him and whomever he chooses in a city-wide search."

He stared at the glass. After a pause, he _mmm-_ ed noncommittally.

"So," she said, blandly, when he didn't answer. "I never took _Thor_ to be the scholar."

He looked at her sidelong. "He's not."

"He's not hard to listen to," she said.

Loki shifted his feet, scowling as he flicked something off of his sleeve. "Any fool can describe a thing he's done every year since his birth."

"You'd be surprised how many people _can't_ do that."

"All that is required is to have," he looked at her, punctuating the word with his hand, " _once_ , opened his eyes."

She gave him a lopsided smile, "You couldn't have done it better?"

He looked at her without turning his head. "I lack the inclination."

"Why?"

One dark brow crept up his forehead.

"Why _not_ explain it?" she asked.

His look levelled as he turned back to the window. He exhaled and his breath fogged the glass. Then he looked at her, "Why are you asking me this? Stark didn't put you up to it," he guessed, "My brother, then?"

"No," she shifted on her feet, "No, nothing like that. I just," she faltered a little, "I don't know. You seemed a little on edge."

"Ah," Loki decided, a touch smugly, "And you thought it was an instinct to protect my childhood traditions."

"Nope."

He looked at her and she smiled. "I just knew that that would get you to talk."

He frowned. "Why should you want that?"

She thought perhaps she sensed the repression of a smile in the corner of his mouth. Turning back to the window, she shrugged. "I don't know. Like I said, you seemed…stressed."

"So you've come to 'talk me down'?"

"I came to fetch you for Stark. But," she shrugged, "It _would_ be nice if no one got hurt tonight."

Loki touched the bridge of his nose with his thumb.

"I promise nothing about Thor," he said finally, "or the _street peddler._ But as for the rest of them," he looked at her, "you have my word, Romanoff." A smile did touch the side of his mouth then. And not one that made the hair stand up on the back of her neck. It had a spark of humor in it that was distinctly non-threatening. "For tonight."

He was…playing with her, she decided, making a joke. She recognized the expression in his eyes as one she occasionally saw him level at Thor. She found herself smiling.

Then the air moved and he was gone.

She whirled.

He stood, framed by the light of the doorway.

She gathered herself, deciding her next move as her mouth opened. "Natasha," she said.

In the doorway, he paused. "What?"

"I prefer 'Natasha'."

He inclined his head, if marginally. "Very well," he allowed.

And in the next moment, he vanished.

 **II.**

Pensively, Natasha let herself in on Bruce's floor and went to the door of his bedroom. She tapped lightly on the frame with the back of her knuckles before softly twisting the nob.

He was asleep, with papers sprawled out all around him on the bed and the floor. A massive book was held open by his hand.

He didn't know how to rest, she thought fondly. She took the book away from him.

"Hm?" Bruce grunted, "I'm up, I'm up."

She closed the book and laid it down on the bedside table.

Behind her, she heard Bruce getting to his feet.

"Sleep well?" she asked softly.

"Eh," he rubbed the back of his neck, "Better 'n last night… You, uh," he squinted at her, "You okay? You seem…tense."

"Yes," she faltered. "I'm –" she gave him a smile. "I'm fine. It's just…"

Slowly, she sat down on the edge of the bed. Concerned, Bruce touched her hand.

"The way Stark's got us all together here," she searched his eyes. "I think things are going to change."

"H-how?" he frowned, "How change? Why?"

"Bruce," fondly, she traced the back of his hand, "How much quality time do we ever spend together?"

"You and I?"

"As a team," she looked at him. "This is a new experience for us."

"Yeah, Stark's just full of surprises. But that's…" he traced his thumb up and down the back of her hand, "not all of it? Is it?"

"No," she moistened her lower lip, "What…" Then she met his eyes. "What do you think of Loki?"

"Loki?" he gave a wry laugh, "as a _person_?"

"I think I'm…trying to make friends with him."

"You think? Or…?"

"It wasn't something I planned."

"Tahsa," he traced back a lock of hair from her face, " _this_ wasn't something you planned."

"No," she gripped his hand, "No, Bruce. It's not like that. It's nothing like that."

She stopped, and she looked at his face. He was looking at her.

"I trust you," he whispered.

Natasha closed her eyes.

She heard him get up.

She heard his voce behind her, by the bureau. "He's done some…unpardonable things," he said. "But that's a lot coming from the guy who broke…Harlem. And he hasn't done anything too…horrible, recently."

She turned on the bed to face him with her hands lose on her lap, watching him like a schoolgirl begging guidance.

"You know he's dangerous," he pointed out, meeting her eyes in the glass as he buttoned the front of his shirt.

"I know." She said. She started tracing together the lose papers he'd left on the bed. Giving Bruce an uncertain smile she said, "He's been one of the good guys for a while, now."

He picked up his glasses from the top of the bureau and slipped them into his pocket, "Could be an act."

"That's a long time for an act." Natasha stood up, brushing her hands down the front of her jeans.

"Well, he's got a long time." Turning and coming near her, Bruce took both her hands. "Tasha," he faltered, glancing at his feet. "I'm not telling you not to. I'm just saying be careful," he met her eyes. "I _have_ to."

She squeezed his hand, "I know."

Then she turned away. Bending to pick up a stray sheet from the floor, she said "Stark wants us downstairs."

"Oh yeah?" he drawled, fixing his collar in the mirror, "What's he got planned for us now? Musical chairs?"

"Movie night."

Turning, he raised his eyebrows, "Movie night?"

She shrugged, "His house," she said. "He wants everyone to be there."

"Any idea which movie?"

"Christmas Special," she leaned against the doorframe. "Thor's never seen any."

"I'm not surprised." He gave a dry laugh, "Remind me again why I agreed to do this?"

Smiling, she came away from the doorframe and went to him. She put both her arms up and propped them on his shoulders so that her hands hung limply behind him. "You wanted to spend more time with me," she said.

She gave him a kiss on his cheek.

"All right fine," he nodded his head, "That's a good reason."

 **III**

Loki sprawled on the armchair he'd chosen in the back of the room and stared at the ceiling.

The others – Stark, Rogers, Barton, Maximoff, Wilson, Lang, Potts, Strange, Thor – were all gathered nearer the center of the room, chattering and laughing. Accusing one another of trivial breaches of seasonal propriety.

He couldn't understand why he'd agreed to come here.

They all seemed to be enjoying themselves, insipid creatures.

Worrying the side of one nail with his teeth, Loki studied the ceiling. He'd learned a great deal about this ceiling. It was flat and high, crafted of silver panels. He'd counted and calculated the plausible weight of each. He'd noticed the various imperfections in the metal. He stared at a place in the back left corner of one nearly directly above his head and thought that perhaps it was dented. A gradual deficiency that mortal eyes would never notice. He amused himself by considering all that could go wrong from the placement of that inadequacy. He thought of small creatures that might creep in by it. Or winds and water that might leak through.

Hel, he thought, was often depicted with great stalactites, formed by water that carried tiny mineral particles which gradually built the stone further and further toward the ground – water molding stone through constant exposure.

He thought of the caverns he'd stumbled upon in Asgard in the innocent days of his youth, when he'd been much given to exploration. He remembered the damp and cold, and the ever-present drip from the living stone.

Laughter from the cluster of bodies in the center of the room dragged him from his thoughts and he scowled. He dropped his hand onto the arm of the chair and turned back to the window. The light without was failing and he could see them reflected in the glass.

Yes, he thought. This, was Hel.

Movement in the reflection drew his eye.

It was Banner, and behind him, her fingers laced with his, was Romanoff.

Natalia Alianovna Romanova. Sitting straighter, Loki watched her phantom image on the glass. The Russian spy, defector to SHIELD, who had brought the very organization that had opened its arms to her and offered her shelter roaring down. She had betrayed each who knew her at one time or another and carried the knowledge of it as a chain dragging on her slender neck.

She fascinated him.

She had asked that he call her by her first name – a familiarity that he had not expected and did not entirely trust. Certainly she had some ulterior motive. She was, at her core, a spy, and nothing that she did was without some twist to her own benefit.

She'd brought Banner with her. The beast-who-was-doctor. She'd chosen him as her nearest companion these past years, and Loki had watched their relationship with no little interest. It fascinated him to see two creatures who seemed so unfit for one another remain so constantly loyal.

But, he told himself, they did have a common thread, forged by the guilt they held so dear. He, for the lives his beast has taken that no miracle his doctor-self created could return. She, gifted her by the lives she had taken in order to preserve her own.

"Natasha," Stark turned to face his latest arrivals, "Bruce," he pleaded, " _Guys_. You gotta help me." The inadequacies he felt bared themselves in his constant demand for attention, for approval. Loki wondered that it did not shame him to hear his own voice.

Laughter simmered in Romanoff's eyes, "What is it now, Stark?" she asked. She pandered to Stark's whims. Nothing that would help the egotistical inventor, but she seemed to enjoy it. Which, Loki supposed sourly, he would have to concede her prerogative, given the situation.

"None of them," Stark flung out an arm, indicating the rest of his guests, "have seen _The Polar Express_!"

Loki rolled his eyes. He wondered why it was he had allowed her to coax him back into this company.

"Tony," Potts drew up behind their host, smiling in her patient way, persuading Stark to face her with tiny hands she placed on his shoulder, " _I_ haven't seen _The Polar Express_."

"You," Stark looked at her for one moment, then dismissed her, "don't count."

His reflection-self looked expectantly at his two latest arrivals.

Banner shook his head, half-smiling. "Can't help you there," he said.

"Well," Strange laughed, "There's that." He threw up one hand like a shrug and Loki could see how it shook. Narrowing his eyes, he wondered if it yet kept the petty-conjurer up at night, lamenting the unforeseen direction his life had taken.

Thor, who was beside the man, seemed amused. Ignoble bastard.

"What," Stark frowned at Banner, raising a finger, "are you saying?"

"That _I_ haven't seen it, Tony," Banner smiled. Removing his glasses from his pocket, he polished them. It was a nervous tic Loki had noticed.

"Not cool." Stark decided.

Loki thought briefly to alter the man's pitiful state of mind with some illusionary disaster, but, as the exercise was bound to do nothing besides lengthen his sentence, he only imagined it, watching the figures in the glass with his chin in his hand as the world without became darker and darker, and the figures within showed all the more clearly against it.

"Nat," Stark moved in on his last hope with the desperation of a man drowning. "Tasha, Natalie," he pled, "help me out."

Giving an amused little shrug she cut him loose, "No can do."

"How am _I_ the only one who's seen this movie?"

"Give 'em a break, Stark," Barton groaned, "None of them have kids."

"Some of us," Maximoff commented coolly, looking at her nails, "have better things to do."

"That," Stark chose to ignore his more sensible teammate and honed in on the archer, "does not excuse you. Any of you, actually," he changed tactics as inspiration struck. "'Cause I _don't_ have kids, and _I_ saw it."

"You're a billionaire!" Wilson exclaimed. " _And_ ," he rested an elbow on his knee, "a billionaire with the tastes of _maybe_ a ten-year-old. You don't count as a test case."

Potts couldn't quite stifle a laugh at that.

Loki smirked.

His reflection smirked back.

"A ten-year-old with _uncanny_ taste in whiskey, wouldn't you say, Barton?" Stark asked.

Barton nodded thoughtfully – to the immense amusement of his fellows.

" _And,_ billionaire whose generosity fuels _your_ current state of comfort, I might add." Stark looked at Potts, "Et tu, Pepper? Fine." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay. Fine. I deserved that. All right. Drastic measures. I didn't want to have to do this tonight,"

Potts squeezed his shoulder with one hand, "Let's watch it, Tony. Come on, I want to see it."

Stark lifted his face out of his palm, looking at her in disbelief, " _Really_?"

"Yes, really," moving to circumnavigate Stark, she patted his arm. "Let's go."

"We're watching it." Stark decided. "I hope you all know that you brought this on yourselves. To the Television Room!" Holding out an arm he said, "Miss Potts, if you would join me?"

"You have a television room?" Lang marveled. He pushed himself up from the couch, the back of which had, until that moment, hidden him from Loki's sight.

Shaking her head, Potts submitted to Stark's antics. "Yes," she smiled over her shoulder, "Unfortunately we do."

" _What_ is unfortunate about that?" Lang held out a hand to Wilson.

"I gotta say," Wilson took the assistance offered, "I'm with Tic-Tac on this one."

Lang paused in the doorway and glanced back at the others who had taken longer to rise from their seats. "Are you coming, Captain America?"

"Yeah," Rogers smiled bashfully, "What can be the harm?"

"Around Stark?" Romanoff laughed, "It's better not to ask."

"We all saw where that went last time," Banner agreed.

They laughed.

Giving an amused sort of sigh, Barton disembarked the perch he'd made of the arm of a chair. He held out a hand, "Doctor," he said.

Strange shook his hand.

"I'm Clint."

"Call me Stephen. Should we…?"

"Yeah," Barton shrugged. "Best just to go along with Stark when he gets his 'ideas'. You known him long?"

Rising, Thor turned and met Loki's eyes in the glass.

"Are you coming, Brother?" he asked.

Loki sighed. "Do I have a choice?"

Thor gave that a moment's mockery of thought. "No," he decided with a grin, "not really, no."

"Then I suppose there's no helping it." Loki lifted himself out of the chair and cleared the distance between his current place and the door in four quick strides – Faster than Thor could have taken more than two.

Jaw set, Loki did not break stride until he'd tracked Stark and his companions to the room he'd promised them. It was a large area, with an assortment of couches and armchairs, and one wall almost entirely taken up by a screen. The wall adjacent to it was a wide window, as so many of the Tower's walls were. Loki thought it one of the Tower's _few_ redeeming qualities.

The others were not looking at the windows.

"Oh _man_ ," Lang marveled where he had stopped in the doorway.

"He wasn't kidding," Wilson murmured in awe.

Loki rolled his eyes and slid behind them.

There was a door that led to a smaller room on Loki's right. Various pieces of Pott's tasteless artistic acquisitions decorated the walls to the best of their meager ability.

Stark was speaking commands to his phantom thrall, ordering she draw the blinds about the wide windows. As the mechanism complied, the reflected images on the glass went opaque, then they went out entirely until there was little left to distinguish the windows from the other three walls.

With the windows lost to him, the room felt smaller, the air more thick. Loki's chest constricted and without any true notion of why he did it, he folded his arms across his chest.

Stark turned with his arms spread theatrically, "WonkaVision!" A quirk bent his eyebrow. "What? Nothing?"

Thor pushed in looking curiously about the room.

Grimacing, Loki moved further away.

"You people seriously need to get out more," Stark complained. "Kitchenette's over there," he pointed at the room Loki had noticed to his right, "Bathroom's that-a-way. On with the show. Find a seat."

Lang was sitting already, cross-legged in an armchair that was easily big enough for two of him, with an excited smile on his bland face. Wilson and Rogers shared a couch. Strange lifted his feet and levitated on the air nearby.

"You're not, seriously," Stark turned on the neophyte-illusionist, "going to do that."

"It's actually quite comfortable," Strange answered with a slight smirk. "It's a wonder more of you don't try it."

"Oh-kay…"

Loki gave a derisive breath, and he thought to leave, but Thor had sensed his dissent and, coming up behind him, taken a firm hold of his arm.

"Let _go_ of me," Loki snapped.

His struggles did nothing to weaken Thor's grip.

"Do we _have to_ do this?" Maximoff asked. She stood at the edge of the room, with one arm gripping the opposite elbow.

Glaring at Thor, Loki found that he couldn't have worded it better.

" _Yes_." Stark answered. "Mandatory movie night." He looked at Loki. "Sit your keister down."

Implacably, Thor dragged him to a couch and pulled him onto it beside him before so much as loosening his hold. Loki tore his arm free. Thor had chosen a couch very nearly in the center of the room and leaving it would hardly be innocuous. Thor settled himself, giving Loki a smug little smile. Folding his arms Loki shut his teeth and starred directly ahead of him at the relentless blackness of the blank screen.

Romanoff had chosen the couch to Thor's right, with Banner on her right hand and Barton on the back of the couch behind her to her left.

With a resigned sigh, Maximoff took the chair that was nearest the door. She crossed her knees and immediately began worrying at the edges of one thumbnail.

"Ms. Potts," Tony smirked at them all, then looked behind them to his woman, "with me," Taking a wide armchair he patted his lap.

"Tony," she blushed.

"I insist. Friday?"

"Yes, Boss?"

"Dim the lights."

"This should be fun," Loki heard Maximoff mutter.

"Yes," Thor shifted beside him, "I expect it to be most enjoyable. Don't you think so, Brother?"

Loki let his head fall back against the chair, and he looked at the ceiling.


	6. Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer

**I.**

The movie – _The Polar Express_ – Loki came to understand, was an appalling rendition of a children's book, which focused almost exclusively on the travels of an abnormal locomotive running on Christmas Eve.

Loki wondered what sort of childhood a man had to experience to consider the writing of such a book. And what horrors a man had to endure to consider crafting it into such a film and inflicting it upon the rest of his kind.

The film – unlike its bound predecessor – depicted the train as running on tracks that rivaled human amusement parks in adversity to the species' well-being. Any child who expected locomotives to run in any manner similar were certain to be grossly disappointed.

Loki watched with a mixture of confusion and disgust as it unfolded before him on the mammoth screen.

Even Rogers was prompted to comment after the musical number. He let his hand fall from where it had been quizzically paused beside his mouth, "What just happened?"

"Genius," Stark claimed. He filled his mouth with popcorn from the bowl on Pepper's lap, "Cinematic genius."

The captain looked skeptical, "Was _that_ what I just saw?"

Lang happily helped himself to the popcorn, " _I_ thought it was entertaining."

Loki lessened his already dismal estimation of Lang's intelligence.

He gave up entirely on the film within the first twenty minutes. Numerous points made no sense to him, but he comforted himself that it made as much to many of the others.

"Wait…" Wilson said.

"Magic." Stark interrupted.

Strange gave their host a look that was both disapproving and amused.

Loki grumbled that it was no such thing before Stark hissed at him to be quiet and let those with the hopes of a youth experience the joy of Christmas through a child's eyes.

Maximoff rolled hers, which, Loki thought, was as good a response as any.

Thor enjoyed every moment of it.

As the train shot down a rickety slope, bearing its load of kidnapped children, Thor turned, back straight and alert, hands resting on his knees, "Man of Iron!" he said, "Tell me that they live through this!"

Loki was staring determinedly at the corner of the screen, gripping his forearms with his hands.

"Wait and see." Stark grinned.

"The one in the glasses," Barton said from his new place beside Romanoff's feet, "needs to go."

Absently, Natasha nodded her head.

Loki gave a humorless breath of a laugh and turned his attention to the others as a ready distraction.

Glancing over, Natasha reached around the arm of the couch to pat Thor's knee. "It's a kid's film, Thor," she said. "I think they'll be fine."

Banner was ignoring them, frowning at the screen as thought it was some scientific anomaly whose meaning he could not comprehend.

The train skidded to a safe halt and Thor breathed a sigh of relief.

Loki had often teased Thor, when they had been children, before Mjolnir had helped him overcome his fear, with his own indifference to heights. Thor would shout at him and plead as he went higher up or father down the branch of some tree. And he had laughed. As painful as any landing had ever been – and he'd suffered injury from many – he'd never managed to acquire a true fear of falling. Falling when there is certainty of surface beneath is a finite thing and over quickly. A fall without end is a horror, and Loki often woke – even all these years later – with his heart pounding in his throat and his skin damp with sweat, certain that the screaming lack of the Void was about him again, pressing in on all sides and stripping the breath from his lungs.

Normally, his unease was a fact easy enough to ignore, but film was a more demanding medium than reality. It drew attention without any offer of alternate course. His heart raced as the screen forced him to peer again and again down the jagged mountain slope. Then the moment of peril would pass to some new frivolity and he would remember the room about him and sink back, sullen and scowling, with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes fixed on the bottom left side of the screen, where the border of it met the wall.

Thor, on the other hand, enjoyed the film. Thor enjoyed every aspect of the film.

Loki cursed the events that had started him on the path that led him to this moment. Whenever they had occurred. Any number of alternative courses surely had been available to him. But, he considered sardonically, he could hardly have expected that _any of them_ would land him _here_.

When the three children wavered on the edge of a bridge in their bare feet and nightshirts with open air beneath them and bits of debris crumbling from the bridge on which they stood, Loki abruptly decided that he'd had enough. He bolted from the couch and vanished into the kitchenette Stark had indicated before Thor could pin him down.

He'd moved with such speed that he'd forgotten his usual caution. Normally he did not run into occupied rooms, and Potts was barely more startled than he by his sudden arrival.

"You," she shook herself, laughing a little, "you startled me."

She shook her head, wiping up the spray a jerked hand had caused to the pot she was ministering.

Loki had nothing to say to that. "I…apologize."

She wasn't looking at him, and smiled to herself as she worked, which, not for the first time, both surprised and nettled him. He opened a cupboard for no reason but pretense.

She was a strange creature. But that was easily enough said of anyone who willingly took up Stark's acquaintance.

"I was just mixing up some hot chocolate," she said, "Have some?"

Momentarily astonished, he stopped. He smoothed his skepticism aside and shut the cupboard. Nothing on the shelf made sense to him. Human foodstuffs were exhausting at best. "Why not?" he decided.

"That's the spirit," she said. Her mouth was sarcastic, but the voice was not unkind.

He couldn't quite tell if she was mocking him, and that unsettled him. Fidgeting, he pressed his lips thin. He did not enjoy situations that he could not quantify. And Potts was – by her very nature – such a situation. She had been well-trained through her constant affiliation with Stark, and she deftly dodged verbal attacks, holding her own impressively against most contenders.

But perhaps more than that, she was not unkind. Pepper had been uncertain of him at first, but, having received word that he was an ally – to his continuing surprise – she had immediately set any fears she might have had aside, as none else had done. She operated within her world with a kind of frank optimism that Loki did not understand.

She was a very small woman, and she had to go up on her toes to reach the rack. Without thinking Loki put out his arm and brought a mug down for her. He put it into her hand.

She blinked. "Thanks," she said. She smiled at him.

He drew away, suddenly and inexplicably defensive. "It was nothing," he said.

They had interacted but few times, and all under the watchful eye of Stark. Loki was uncertain of the boundaries she kept, and his curiosity impelled him as much as his discomfort drove him away.

"So," she asked, carelessly, "how are you enjoying the movie?" Seeing that he made no move for the mug as she offered it to him, she put the steaming cup on the countertop between them and turned to fill her own.

He lifted a cylindrical container on the countertop and set it back. "I've seen better."

"Oh," she gave a short laugh, "really. I can't see how you could've managed that."

In spite of himself he smiled, just slightly, testing the heat of the mug and carefully lifting it from the countertop. "Stark's not the only one capable of wit," he commented.

"It's catching," she deadpanned. Then, flicking off the fire on the stovetop she sighed. "Come on. We've seen this much of it. We can't miss Santa."

She took his arm as she passed him and, bemused, Loki allowed her to move him back through the doorway, where she left him and casually went to take her former place with Stark.

"Elves look nothing like that," Thor was telling Barton.

More than a little thrown by the exchange, Loki sat beside him.

"Loki," Thor looked at him, indicating the screen. "Do you know any elf as ugly as that?"

Loki studied the images for a moment. "Helgi," he decided. "Or perhaps Dain."

"Helgi, yes." Thor said. "I'd forgotten about him. But Dain is hardly fair. He _was_ half dwarf."

Lang's attention had diverted from the screen to them, "He was half…"

Loki ignored him, grimacing, "The better half."

Lang leaned forward, "You guys know _dwarves_?"

"Guys," Tony demanded, "We're trying to watch a movie here."

"I'm just saying," Thor pressed, "That whoever this 'Santa Claus' is, _if_ he can afford to give all the children on Earth presents, he could afford to buy better-looking servants."

Barton gave a low whistle.

Natasha looked at Thor in some consternation. "Asgardians are brutal," she laughed.

Loki thought that rather amusing, coming from a former Soviet assassin.

" _Guys_ ," Tony said louder, " _Movie._ "

Loki set the cup Pepper had given him onto a coffee table that stood within easy reach and settled himself for what was bound to be a lengthy ending to an unpleasant film.

Sure enough, the long-awaited master of the elves appeared, causing the elves to break out in a completely unrealistic joyous riot, and the children began their perilous and taxing journey home. Loki could only hope that it would be less tedious than the road there had been. He was pleased to discover that the filmmakers had taken belated mercy on captive audiences around the world, and had chosen to illustrate only part of the return trip.

Before Loki was truly expecting it, the boy had been returned to his home, and the conductor bent, telling the boy, " _One thing about trains: it doesn't matter where they're going. What matters is deciding to get on._ "

It was too much and Loki let his head rock back.

He heard Natasha's soft chuckle, "So, you disagree?" she asked.

Loki raised his head. True enough, half her mouth was caught up in a smile, and her eyes were laughing at him. "It's preposterous," he said, flipping one hand, "The destination would be the point."

The other half of her mouth drew up to mirror the first, "You sure about that?" she asked.

He cocked one eyebrow. "The entire endeavor is made to facilitate arrival," he said dryly, "So, yes."

"Unless it's how one _endeavors_ that makes the difference," she mused.

"Are you two seriously arguing about a children's movie?" Wilson demanded.

"No," Natasha smiled pleasantly at Wilson, "We're not talking about that at all."

"Guys," Tony threw popcorn at her, "You're killing me. Movie."

Loki turned on her cuttingly, "Puts a few of us in a rather bad light then, doesn't it?"

"Rock of Ages," Tony snapped, " _hush_."

Natasha only smirked at him, her eyes snapping like she knew something that he did not. Deliberately, she turned away from him to face the screen.

Feeling unfairly like he had been tricked, Loki watched her. He was looking for the catch in what he had said – for anything that she might have taken to be her own victory. He found nothing, and, eventually, gave up in disgust.

" _At one time,_ " the narrator was saying. Loki hoped to any power that was listening it was his final soliloquy, " _most of my friends could hear the bell. But as the years passed, it fell silent for all of them. Even Sarah found, one Christmas, that she could no longer hear its sweet sound. Though I've grown old, the bell still rings for me…as it does for all who truly believe."_

Then, it was over.

"Who still believes?" Tony asked.

His hand moved, and something small and glinting arched into the air.

All in the same instant that it reached its peak, a red glow enveloped it, and with a crash it vaporized and was gone in a red haze.

All eyes turned blinking on Wanda Maximoff, who still had her hand raised to strike.

Loki snorted a low laugh. She was still very young. She did not begin to comprehend the powers at work within her. And those who surrounded her – who claimed to protect her – did little or nothing to guide her. In fact, they did much that worsened what trauma she had already experienced.

"I'm," she stammered, drawing her arm back, eyes flashing, "Sorry…I think I…"

Wilson gave a low whistle, "Good shot," he said.

"Well," Tony got up. "Friday," he clapped his hands, "Lights. That was a _bell_ , not an enemy missile... but it's good to know someone's reflexes are sharp and," he rubbed the back of his neck, "not to move too quickly."

Lang was watching Maximoff in obvious alarm. Strange – still seated cross-legged on the air – seemed impressed. Rogers was looking on, concerned for his young protégé, as well – Loki thought dryly – he ought to be.

"Stark," Thor leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "Do your –" he put out his hands, " _human_ – children, truly believe that this locomotive exists?"

"Nice save there, Buddy." Tony said, settling himself on the arm of the couch beside Loki with his hands in his pockets. "And no. But it's a good story, isn't it?"

Loki wanted to push him off. He didn't.

"I don't know," Wilson leaned back, stretching his legs, " _A Christmas Story_ was better."

Natasha grimaced as she folded forward, "Really, Sam?" she asked.

"How is it not funny?" the former 'Veteran's Affairs' worker asked, "' _You'll shoot your eye out!_ '"

"I'm with Falcon." Stark put in.

Wanda sat quietly distant, her knees drawn up. She saw none of them. Loki wondered that Wilson did not put his former employment to better work within his team.

" _Home Alone_?" Potts suggested with a resigned sort of smile.

Stark acknowledged her with a pointed finger.

"But nothing," Barton turned his face up to look at Stark, "bar _nothing_ , beats _Die Hard_."

Natasha laughed at him.

" _The Nativity Story_ ," Banner suggested.

Turning, Natasha smiled, a soft, secret kind of smile, and lowered her hand to touch his.

Uncomfortable, Loki looked away.

" _The Grinch_." Stark interrupted them.

Banner grimaced at him.

" _Die Hard_ ," Wilson was insisting, "is not a Christmas movie."

"Christmas isn't Christmas," Barton countered, "until I see Hans Gruber falling from the top of Nakatome Plaza."

"Laura agrees with that?" Rogers asked, laughter flashing in the depths of his eyes.  
"Oh she loves it," Barton shrugged. "Wouldn't have married her otherwise."

"Oh. 'Cause that was the deciding factor," Natasha smirked.

"No," Wilson said, "A Christmas movie, would be something like _A Christmas Carol_ , or _Frosty the Snowman_ , or maybe," he held up one hand, "Maybe, even _Elf_."

"I'm sorry," Natasha leaned around to better face Wilson, "How is _A Christmas Story_ a hard yes, but _Elf_ gets a maybe? I don't think we can be friends anymore."

"I like _Elf_ ," Lang supplied.

"Tasha," Barton turned to look at her, "you like _Elf_?"

"I find it amusing."

Stark kicked Loki's foot to get his attention and Loki drew it away.

"You know what special you should watch?" Stark persisted. " _The Year Without a Santa Claus_. You'd love it. Heat Miser, Snow Miser. Little off but the structure is sound. It's beautiful. They're _at_ each other's _throats_ until Mother Nature cut's in. It's right up your alley. Catchy songs too. But first," his eyes lit up and he straightened, raising his voice, "Ladies and Gentlemen, for your viewing pleasure…Oh, Friday?"

"Yes Boss?"

"Load that one special we talked about."

"The one with the –"

"Yes." Stark interrupted. "Just load it."

"Sure thing, Boss."

"Tony, don't you think –"

"Miss Potts has been overruled." Stark turned and he winked at Loki, "Saddle up Reindeer Games. It's gonna be a bumpy ride."

 **II.**

Forty-five minutes later, the ordeal was finally over.

Loki slumped backward on the couch and kneaded his eyes with the fingertips of both hands.

"What's next?" Stark asked.

"Hari-kari." Loki suggested under his breath.

Natasha laughed at him, which was an event Loki assumed he'd have to become accustomed to.

" _I_ think two movies is more than enough for one evening," Pepper said. She stood up.

"But they were _kids films_ ," Stark protested. "And one of them wasn't even a movie!"

"If we're going to have so many people in the Tower," she ignored him, putting one hand on his shoulder. "I want to play some games."

Loki stared at the top of the wall just above the edge of the screen.

"Games?" Stark grimaced. "Like what? Hide-and-seek. Easy. Loki wins."

In spite of himself Loki gave a short laugh.

"He can look like _anyone_ ," Stark sulked. "It's not fair."

"Well," Pepper patted his knee. "You can fly."

Stark sat up, "How is that –"

"It's been years since I've played Monopoly," Pepper ignored him.

Grudgingly, Loki found he rather respected her for that. There weren't many who could effortlessly evade Stark.

Rogers sat up, excitement flashing across his usually stoic face. "You have Monopoly?"

He _ached_ for the past he could never return to. Inwardly, Loki sneered. The captain had little imagined the full consequences of his heroism.

"Yeah, that's right," Wilson shifted, "That _did_ come out before you went under, didn't it?"

"It was first marketed," Strange said, "by the Parker Brothers in 1935."

Loki watched the man for a moment, wondering if the roadside-entertainer meant to be taken seriously. Then decided that that had entirely been his point and rested his head in his palm.

"I'm sure it's changed…" Rogers said, readying himself for disappointment.

"No," Stark muttered, "It's actually pretty much the same. Still the same…musty old board game."

Pepper mock-swatted his arm. "Do we have any other takers?" she asked.

"I'm in if Captain America's in." Lang nodded.

Loki flicked his eyes to watch the captain's response.

Sure enough, Roger's blushed.

Behind his hand, Loki smirked.

Wilson laughed, "Well, why not?"

"Oh boy," Stark muttered. "I'm gonna need drinks for this. Strange, with me. Beard Bros all the way."

Giving a sigh, Strange unfolded and let his feet touch the ground. "I told you we weren't going with that."

"Secretly," Stark winked at him, "You know you like it."

Pepper patted Tony's shoulder. "Let me find the board."

"Anything I can do?" Rogers asked.

Half-turning as she went, Pepper gave a dismissive wave.

Tony smirked at the room, then turned and beckoned Strange after him.

Loki rested his lips against one bent finger. He was unused to such constant exposure. In Asgard, he had the option simply to vanish, and every other time he had been on Midgard with the Avengers, it had been for some immediate crisis. This, was not that. It was something he did not truly understand. And he found it draining. Exhausted and fidgety, he spread his awareness. Thor was thoroughly embroiled in an argument with Barton comparing the two films they'd experienced, which was getting louder by the moment. Wilson and Banner were rising and moving to the doorway, discussing various films. Natasha explained as much as she could to Rogers, and Lang sat quietly, watching them all, ready to rise at a moment's notice and follow his heroes.

Young Wanda, had taken her chance and fled.

Loki concluded that he'd have to make the best of it. He lifted himself from the couch as surreptitiously as he might, so as not to gain his brother's overbearing attention, and trailed the party making its way to the common room after Stark.

It was loud already when he slipped in after them. The veins throbbed behind his eyes. Keeping innocuously to the edges of the room, he slid behind the bar. He poured himself a drink, then, ignoring it, he rested his elbows on the wood and he watched.

Stark and Wilson were arguing about the placement of their game board, while Banner and Strange were standing a little ways behind them, animatedly talking of what Loki gathered must be some new scientific development. Rogers had come in and stood nearby them, with his arms folded and a bemused look on his face. Occasionally he offered comment.

Slowly, Loki felt himself beginning to relax.

Movement by the door caught his eye, and turning his head only slightly, he saw Lang. The man surveyed the room, both hands in his pockets.

Loki ignored him.

He closed his eyes and he let the sound wash over him. Down the hall he could hear laughter. Thor's laughter.

He did not understand why he had allowed himself to be convinced to come.

"So, uh…"

Not quite startled, Loki turned his head to see Lang.

The man opened the refrigerator, then glanced over his shoulder. He seemed surprised to find that he had caught Loki's attention.

"You want anything?" he asked, "While I'm," he shrugged, "you know…"

He shifted his glass into Lang's line of sight.

Loki turned away from him to keep his lookout on the room. Thor was entering, followed by Barton and Natasha, the three of them jovial, laughing as Thor justified some claim he had made.

"Oh. Okay," Lang said behind him, "Already got it," he drummed his fingers against the top of the door. "That's cool…"

A muscle in Loki's jaw twitched.

"…Cool, cool, cool…"

Loki turned on him.

"Iced tea," Lang was closing the door. He held up the bottle he'd chosen as though curiosity concerning his choice of beverage could have been what had prompted Loki to turn. "It's raspberry flavor," he shrugged, "I like it."

Loki wondered if the man was truly so dense. Considering past events – risks taken, justifications made, attempts that had only barely gone according to what passed for a plan – he concluded that that was a distinct possibility.

"Scintillating," he decided. Deliberately, he turned away.

"You…um…"

Loki was nearly surprised to find that the man was still there.

Lang leaned sideways on the bar. "You okay?"  
Giving a slight frown, Loki looked out at the room. Then he registered what it was that Lang had said to him. With a little jerk he turned first his head and then the rest of his body to face him. " _Pardon_?"  
"Well I," the man stammered, "I don't mean to – but – you know," he shifted his bottle nervously from hand to hand, "a lot of things from that special…and, you know, the stuff Thor's told us about your past…"

Loki felt very distinctly that he should know better what was happening in front of him.

Leaning against his elbows on the bar, Lang shrugged, "We've all got things we've gotta get through and I just…well,"

It hit him what the man was trying to communicate.

Lang intended to express sympathy with _his_ position, and to express concern over it. The situation was so grotesque that Loki very nearly did not believe it.

He promptly snuffed his desire to laugh and adjusted accordingly. Softening his expression to something more thoughtful, he mimicked Lang's less threatening pose, bending his neck and leaning sideways on the bar.

"I guess I wanted to make sure…"

Loki raised his eyebrows to indicate curiosity.

Lang's mouth twisted uncertainly as he fumbled for words, moving one hand as though that were to fill in the gaps.

"Ah," Loki decided. He looked out over the room. Assessing placement. As during any social gathering, the players moved with the fluidity of the gems in a kaleidoscope. Stark and Rogers were moving one table nearer another. Potts had returned with the promised entertainment. Natasha stood beside her, arms folded and smiling. Barton was illustrating some story for Wilson and Thor's benefits as they both waited expectantly to laugh, and Banner and Strange were yet thoroughly embroiled in whatever foolery had caught their eye in the first place. Maximoff remained absent and would, Loki had little doubt, remain so for what was left of the night.

All hands accounted for, Loki finished Lang's thought, "You…mean to be certain that I'm not suffering from any…after-effects of the film," he supplied.

Lang bobbed his head in quick relief. "Yeah," he said, altogether too loudly, "That. That's what I'm wondering. And I'm talking too much. So, uh, you talk." Twisting his hand he cracked the seal of the bottle in his hand and took a drink – as though he thought filling his mouth could stop it from operating properly.

Loki studied the back of his arms where they rested on the bar top. He could not believe his good fortune in this game. Lang was credulous amongst his teammates – easy prey to Loki's arrangements. He let his face fall into a thoughtful frown. Distractedly, he picked some imperfection from his sleeve, savoring his luck. "Well I," he started, hesitatingly and soft, so that Lang had to move just nearer to hear him.

Lang blinked at him in stupefied silence.

"I thank you for your concern. It…" He dodged eye-contact, slipping his gaze from a Lang's face, to a spot somewhere over the man's shoulder, to a nonspecific place somewhere by his wrist. He brushed his hand across the wood surface, as though to move some spec that was not there.

Gathering his breath, Loki shook his head. "I had…" he opened and closed one hand, "few friends, growing up…"

"Wait," Lang coughed, "are you –?"

Loki glanced at him, and he came so near to breaking his resolve that he half-covered his mouth with one hand.

"No," Lang held up his hand, "no. I'm sorry. Don't –" he lifted his drink. Wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist as Loki hesitated he said, "Keep…" and he spun his hand to indicate that Loki should continue speaking.

Simply, Loki obliged. "I," he let his eyes fall, "always felt as though I were somehow…different, if you understand."

"Yeah," Lang nodded emphatically, "yeah I totally, totally get it."

"My mother accepted my, oddness without question but, most everyone else…" Loki shook his head, the picture of abject despondency. "So, between the reindeer, and the elf…and all the little playthings stranded on that island…"

Lang was nodding his head, oozing amiable concern.

Loki didn't look at him for the certainty that he'd laugh. "And when all the citizens of Christmas Town accepted _without question_ the very beast that had only days before sought them as _sustenance_ ,"

Finally looking at Scott, Loki put a hand to his heart, "I found it _deeply_ touching."

"Wait," Lang drew back a little. He blinked. "Are you kidding?"

Dropping the façade, Loki snorted. "Took you long enough," he smirked. He slid his glass out from under the ledge with a deft movement of his fingers.

Shaking his head, Lang pointed at him, "You had me," he chuckled. "You certainly had me."

"I certainly did," Loki straightened. "It doesn't take much."

Lowering the plastic bottle form his lips, Scott screwed the cap back on. "For what it's worth," he said, seriously, "If you ever _do_ want to talk, about anything…"

Loki set his glass down on the wood. "You'll be the first I contact," he promised, blandly.

Thor stood by the window. He'd joined the conversation with Banner and Strange.

"Barton," he heard Natasha say, "with me." She and Pepper were gathering things from about the room. Natasha had several glasses on her arm.

"Yes ma'am," Barton hopped off the table edge.

Wilson and Rogers were carrying in chairs from another room. Stark was telling them where they all belonged.

Swallowing his smile, and feeling more at ease with the situation, Loki half-turned his head to flick a scrutinizing look at Scott. "Are you quite sure that _you're_ all right?" he asked.

"…Yeah?" Lang cocked his head a little to one side, "…I mean…I think so? Why?"

"It's only that the scene on the little Island," Loki drew the words out carelessly, sipping his drink and half-watching Lang's facial response, "the one with all the playthings. I thought it may have…nettled…certain long-standing wounds from your past. A gun that shoots jelly, a bird that swims…an _ant_ who _fights_ ," he gave a gracious shrug, keeping his smile a little in check, "I thought _perhaps_ there was some…resemblance."

"Hey, you never fought a bulldog ant. They're terrifying."

Loki's mouth twitched at one corner, "A Charlie-in-the-Box."

"'Ant Man' is a perfectly good name!"

He gave a low laugh, watching as Stark signaled to the group by the window and how Thor turned to answer him, "I'm sure it is."

Stark turned his attention to them, "Lang," he snapped his fingers.

"Wait," next to Stark, seated at the table, Rogers was frowning perplexedly at the board, "I thought _you_ were banker?"

"Dear _God_ no," affronted, Stark put a hand to his chest. " _Never_ , trust me with money. What, are you insane?" he glanced back up at Lang, "Game?"

Lang gave Stark a thumbs-up. He turned to Loki, gesturing apologetically, "I've gotta…"

"Go," Loki's smile was more than a little sardonic, "have fun with your playmates."

"Cool." Moving around to the outside of the bar, Lang checked himself. "Good talk," he said, snapping his fingers and pointing both at Loki. "We should do it again, Loki of Asgard."

With a quick grin, he'd turned, and joined the others as they milled, choosing their places at the table.

Beside him, Loki heard a low chuckle.  
"Now that wasn't so bad, was it?" Natasha asked from the sink behind him. The glasses in her arms clinked together as he heard her set them down.

Loki's mouth pressed a thin line. He didn't turn. Instead, he lifted his glass to his mouth. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh come on," she prodded, twisting on the tap. "Sure you do. Having a civil – all right – _almost civil_ conversation with one of us didn't hurt you."

Eyes narrowed, Loki turned to face her. "No. It does not physically _pain me_ to converse with _one of you_."

Her tawny eyes flicked over her shoulder. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Fact," he said, "remains fact, Romanova."

"I _didn't_ want to compare you to your brother…?" her mouth twisted like a shrug. She was watching the glasses as she rinsed them, "but you're _kinda_ forcing my hand."

Loki's eyes flicked to her hands as she worked, and for one, acute moment, he wanted to give her a demonstration of what forcing her hand could be.

Then the moment passed.

"Well," he decided, giving her an acerbic smile. "There you have it."

Twisting his hand, he slit the space and stepped through to the far side of the room where the lights were dim and the Avengers were not. Looking them over a final time where they were gathered about their game, he settled himself in a large black armchair, summoned one of his books from his room, and did not pay them another thought.

* * *

 **For anybody curious, yes I've seen both films. And - I've gotta be honest - Loki's response is pretty much a caricature of mine.**

 **Let me know what you think ;)**


	7. Don't Shoot Me Santa

**I.**

Tony did not understand why everyone looked at him like he was crazy. All he'd done was suggest they go window shopping.

"What? Isn't that…what…people…do? During the holidays? Isn't it – Where are you going?"

Pepper gave a strained laugh. "Figures you wouldn't remember." She knocked back a cup of black coffee.

Tony glanced at the others in the room. Strange was sitting at the corner of the table, nearest the window, with a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and his attention on a book that floated just above the tabletop. Natasha sat across from him, her back to Stark, aimlessly flicking through a magazine next to Barton. Occasionally, she pointed something out to him and he'd grunt appreciatively. Steve, Sam, Wanda and Scott were taking up most of the couches in the further section of the room. Thor had one to himself and Loki was hovering near it.

None of them seemed to have any idea what Pepper was talking about. None of them – in fact – actually appeared to be listening anymore.

Bruce was rinsing out his mug at the sink. Tony got his eye and shrugged. Bruce mouthed that he didn't know.

Pepper turned on him with a swish of her red ponytail and a pursed mouth. "The Conference, Tony."

"Right. _The_. Conference. I remembered that. I just thought you might want a way –"

She was nodding her head, "To get out of it." Opening her eyes, she put both hands on his shoulders. "No, Tony. Not today. I have a conference to attend."

"But that's…boring," he said, following her to the other side of the kitchenette.

"Necessary," she countered, whirling on him. " _I_ run a _company_. Do you have _any idea_ –"

"Nope," Tony backpedaled. He covered his ears. "Nope. No ideas. I get it. You're busy."

But she didn't stop. She was talking about the long-term applications of the technology they were considering, and the finer details of what that technology entailed, but Tony had stopped listening and was only sitting on a bar stool, with his hands folded loosely on his lap, starring off into the middle space ahead of him and a little to her right.

Finally, she seemed to get the idea that he wasn't paying attention.

"Not that _your_ company matters to you," she said. "But _someone_ has to keep it running, and the _someone_ that _you_ chose, is me."

Smoothing a stray hair from her face, Pepper sighed.

"Here," Bruce offered her the coffee she'd left on the counter.

"Thanks, Bruce," she said. Then, after a moment, she said to him. "I'm sorry. I know none of that is of interest to you."

"No, actually, it sounds fascinating."

Tony scratched his ear.

Pepper blinked, "You agree with…me?"

"Oh absolutely." Bruce said.

"Wow," she stammered. "Okay. It's just that…doesn't…happen…often. Well. With your credentials maybe you could –"

"It's decided." Tony swiveled to face them. He splayed his hands on the countertop. "He's going with you."

Banner looked at him, "I am?"

"You don't have to," Pepper insisted, "but it could certainly help me to sway the board."

"Wait," Tony interrupted. "I didn't say anything about swaying boards. Shouldn't I be…consulted on this?"

Pepper's mouth was tight. "Tony…"

"Okay, okay. Got it," he drummed his fingers on the counter. "Hey, bring Rhodes back here, will you? And Vision. For being half my former-butler he's surprisingly dodgy about my calls."

"If you'd like to," Pepper said. "You really don't have to come…"

"No, no, that's fine." Bruce adjusted his glasses, "It's just that I'm not used to being," he glanced at Tony, " _volunteered_ for things."

"What are you looking at _me_ for?"

Bruce put one hand soothingly on Pepper's arm, "Just let me…get my coat."

Coming around the counter, Bruce bent and placed a kiss on Natasha's forehead. She smiled at him. Without a word, he left. Pepper followed him.

From the doorway, Tony could hear him offering to carry her things.

There was a plate of ignored toast on the counter in his reach. Tony picked up a piece, tore a corner off, and popped it into his mouth.

No one made any noise. Natasha turned a page of her magazine.

"So. Doctor," Tony tossed a bit of his toast at Strange. "You're coming with me, right?"

The toast fell – for all intents and purposes – unnoticed.

Tony threw up his hands. "All my friends are abandoning me."

"I'll come." Natasha said.

Clint looked at her, "Really, Tasha?"

"Yes really," she laughed at him, "Didn't you say you still had to get something for Cooper?"  
Clint grimaced, "Kinda…"

"What does _that_ mean?" Tony asked. "You either still have to get something for your son, or you don't…"

"My brother and I shall be in attendance as well," Thor slung himself upright on the couch. "We desire to learn more of your culture."

Loki was looking at Thor darkly with his arms folded.

"You got something to say about that, Rock of Ages?" Tony pointed at him with the toast, "Speak now or forever hold your peace."

Loki gave him a thin smile. "My brother is less than cautious in his application of pronouns."

"In English." Tony prodded, "You're coming or not?"

"He's coming," Thor stood up, very slowly, "Or I will be telling Mother."

"Is that what you guys've sunk to?" Sam turned to face them.

Thor shrugged. Loki just looked put-out.

"You in, Falcon?" Tony asked.

"Yeah, sure," Sam smirked. "Cap'll need some guidance."

"It's not the city I knew," Steve said with a shrug. He turned to face Sam, "But you don't have to come along just for me,"

"Who said it's just for you?"

Tony didn't want to hear another discussion. "What about you?" he called to the further back couch, "Wanda? Scott?"

"I'll pass," Wanda said coolly.

Scott looked up from his pancakes. "Wouldn't miss it!" he grinned.

"Scott," Tony spread his arms, "Where were you when I had all those stupid ideas that nobody else would go along with?"

Clint raised his head, "Those days are past?"

"You're still in _my_ house, Barton."

Steve had leaned forward on his couch and was talking to Wanda in a low voice. Tony couldn't hear a word of what they said. Or, rather, what _he_ said. Wanda seemed unresponsive.

Strange was watching the two of them. Sitting back, Steve made eye contact with the doctor, and Strange inclined his chin.

Tony was not sure what he had witnessed, and uncertain that he wanted to ask.

"All right," he said. Tugging up one sleeve he checked his watch. "Train's leaving in ten minutes whether you're on it or not. Let's suit up."

 **II.**

"Well it's not the 'Polar Express'…" Tony bounced on his heels. His breath steamed in the sunshine and he dug his hands into his coat pockets. " _Lord_ it gets cold out here. We're gonna experience the briskness of the season and walk a ways. Executive decision. Well," he glanced behind him. "Some of us are. Do you ever even _get_ cold?"

Loki looked at Tony for one long moment. His lips pressed together. Then he turned his head away.

"Okay. Silent treatment. I like it. All here?" Tony looked behind him again to do the head count. Loki, Thor, Steve, Sam, Scott, Natasha, Clint. Thor was wearing Clint's Santa hat – which gave Tony pause, for a second there. "Where's Strange?"

The doors opened a final time to a gust of wind that lifted the sorcerer's cape dramatically out behind him.

When the cape lowered itself, Tony saw Wanda, fastening the front of her coat as she came down the steps.

Sam nodded his head. "Glad you changed your mind," he said to her.

"She will be accompanying me," Strange told them. "I cannot be away from the Sanctum for too long. I _am_ its guardian."

"You're coming back though?" Tony demanded.

Strange gave a deep nod, "Of course."

"Fair enough." Tony faced forward. "If I know large groups of small children well, and I can do better – I know executives – we _will_ get separated. Tower's not hard to find when you get hungry."

 **III.**

Steve did not bother to try and keep up with the others.

Even after all of his time out of the ice, the world still seemed so different. Home wasn't home anymore. He'd just about managed to come to grips with that. As clichéd as it was, he felt it more at Christmastime.

So, he let the others go on ahead. Laughing and boisterous, they all pulled away.

All except Sam.

"You don't have to –" Steve started.

"I know."

They walked quietly for a long time. The cold pricked at Steve's lungs.

Finally, Steve took a deep breath. "You have family around here?" he asked.

"Eh," Sam shrugged, hands still deeply burrowed in his pockets. "Not really. Don't have much by way of family, anymore. Was always kinda a loose distinction for me anyways. Got some friends though, besides you guys. Must be rough for you," he said. "We're about all you got," he gave a wry chuckle, "and we're _not_ pretty."

Steve smiled. "Families usually aren't."

"You got me there."

They'd turned onto a busier street, some ways back. Steve barely recognized it. Billboards and advertisements flashed and flickered wherever he looked.

"It's strange to think that these are the same streets they were," he said.

"Must be," Sam answered.

"Buck and I used to go out like this, at Christmas. You know," Steve glanced at him, "before the War. Neither of us had any money, but we didn't need it back then. It was enough just to see it all."

"It was a different time, back then." Sam nodded. "How's that case going, by the way? Any leads?"  
Steve exhaled and watched his breath cloud. "Nothing solid."

"If the man knows anything by now," Sam said. "It's how to disappear."

A bus rounded the corner just ahead of them. Steve thought that he might have seen a large blonde man, wearing a Santa hat, on it. But the glance he caught was too fleeting to be sure that the man was Thor.

"I'm wondering," Sam interrupted his thoughts, "what sort of gag gift to pick up for Stark. Any ideas?"

Steve looked at him quizzically, "A gag gift?"

"Yeah, you know," Sam shrugged. "Nothing serious. Just a little something to make me laugh."

Steve smirked. "'Cause that's what Christmas is all about."

"When you've been – for all counts – _kidnapped_ by a billionaire for the holidays? Yes," Sam countered. "That's _absolutely_ what it's all about."

 **IV.**

"Brother?" Thor ran up behind him. He could never manage just to walk at a steady pace. "Brother, do you smell that?"

Loki did not break stride. They'd lost the others some time ago to Thor's curiosity. Loki was hoping eventually that Thor would become tired and demand they return to the tower. Until then, he was tracking Stark. He had little patience for any of it. "Vehicular exhaust, refuse or…?"

"That _smell_ …" Thor stopped. Again.

"Oh for the love –" Loki turned. "It's coffee, Thor. You had _a pot of it_ at Stark's tower. Now could you please –"

"But where is it _coming from_?"  
"Well how am _I_ supposed to –"

"There!" Thor pointed to a sign. "And there are people singing before it! They brought their children!" he beamed at Loki.

"No. Thor I've had quite enough –"

Thor took his arm and dragged him across the street.

"Well," Loki tore his arm out of Thor's hand. "That was brilliant, Thor. We were nearly hit by four drivers. What more could we ask of your 'Midgardian Holiday'?"

Thor smirked at him, "They stopped, didn't they?" he fixed his ridiculous hat which had tipped to an odd angle.

" _Barely_."

"And they could hardly have hurt us if they had," Thor shrugged. "So I don't see why you fret."

" _We_ ," Loki pointed out acerbically, "might have hurt _them_ , 'Protector of Midgard.' And I _don't_ fret."  
Thor looked at him. "You sound like a goat."

Loki opened his mouth. Then he shut it again.

Thor gave him a pert smile. He turned about and made for the group of singers he'd been so taken with.

Shoving his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat, Loki saw no less painful course of action than to follow him.

Thor had stopped before the little group. A small girl in a red knit hat and scarf that all but hid her face peeked shyly up at him.

Thor gave her a small wave.

Her face flushed as red as her scarf.

Sighing deeply, Loki stalked a few paces away.

"Fine singing, my friends," Thor told them.

Loki watched him out of the corner of his eye.

Thor put his hand into his pocket and, drawing it out he gave them some of the Midgardian currency he'd taken to carrying with him. The coins clattered one against another as they fell into the pot the singers had laid out at their feet for the purpose.

Thor glanced his direction and Loki pointedly did not look back, pretending to be preoccupied with the rush of traffic. The slight, unhappy tilt to Thor's mouth did not quite escape him. Then Thor had turned about and made for the coffee shop that he had started them on this new bent of their quest. Guilt throbbed in his chest for one moment before he shoved it away and went to follow after his brother. He caught up with him as Thor pushed open the glass door.

Thor glanced over his shoulder before Loki could speak. "Are you going to sulk the entire time?" he asked.

Whatever it was Loki might have been about to say died in his throat. "No," he said, lightly. "I promise I'll be quite jovial the moment you tell me we're going home."

Giving a long sigh, Thor shook his head.

"And I'm hardly sulking," Loki followed him into the warmth and heady smells of the little shop.

A corner of Thor's mouth tugged upward, "What would _you_ call it, my most loquacious brother?"

"Ooo. Loquacious," Loki drawled, glancing around him. Windows with small panels lined the street, and modest booths stood alongside them. Tall tables rested near a counter on the left side of the room, with high stools beside them. Some seven or eight people were scattered about, in ones and twos. Talking lowly to one another over their coffees, or nursing drinks as they worked at computers or books that lay before them. The place was, surprisingly enough, not unpleasant. "Did you have Stark teach you that one?"

Thor snorted, but did not otherwise answer. Loki chalked that up as a personal victory.

Thor went purposely up to the counter and rested both hands on it. "Drinks," he said, loudly, "For myself, and my brother." Looking about for some employee, he drummed his fingers on the wood.

Loki knew for a fact that that was not how Midgardian places of business operated, but he chose to keep that information to himself.

"And, for your information," Loki leaned sideways against the counter, folding his arms, "I'm ruminating."

Thor flicked him half an amused glance. "Ruminating."

"On how I manage to get myself into these situations. And biding my time until I can find a way out."

"So," Thor grinned, "sulking, then."

Loki shrugged and looked past him. Two young females were sitting, hunched over one of the tall tables by the left-hand windows with their feet hooked into the rungs beneath the stools. They were smiling foolishly and tittering to each other as they tactlessly watched the two of them. Undoubtedly, Thor had been recognized. One of them failed at furtively aiming her phone at them to catch a picture of "The Mighty Thor" ordering coffee.

Twisting his hand, Loki put spell over both himself and his brother that he'd found fooled Midgardian electronics, while never tricking their eye. He'd found it quite amusing these past years.

"Yes. Hello," Thor distracted him, smiling winningly at a female member of the shop's staff who had poked her head out from behind a door in the back wall. "Drinks," he announced again, "for myself and for my brother."

The girl was petite and blonde, with flashing blue eyes. She was blinking at Thor in some stupefaction as she drew forward.

"We can pay," Thor assured her, totally misunderstanding her awe. "Good Midgardian currency."

Loki glanced over. The girls were frowning at their phones, pressing buttons and trying, first one, and then the other, to catch a photographic image of Thor.

Loki smirked.

"You're Thor," the barista managed.

"I am." Thor said. "Yes. Hello."

Loki turned laconically around and looked at her.

To his pleasure, her eyes widened in alarm.

"Is he…?"

"Loki," he smiled. "Of Asgard."

She drew a little to the other side of the register, glancing from him to Thor, "He's with you?"

"Obviously," Loki scoffed.

"Oh yes," Thor said. "There's nothing to fear. He's quite harmless these days."

" _Hardly_ ," Loki scowled. Glancing across Thor's back, he saw that the girls had recovered from their disappointment and – as far as he could tell – forgotten Thor entirely. His mood soured still further.

"What…" the girl seemed decidedly lost, pawing at the screen in front of her as though she'd quite forgotten what it was that it was intended to do.

"Drinks." Loki reminded her.

"Yeah. Those," she said. "What…uh…" she looked at Thor. "What do you want?"

"Coffee." Thor said. "Two."

"Okay," she chewed and then popped the gum in her teeth. "What kind?"

Loki's nose wrinkled in disgust and, shoving his hands into his coat pockets again, he surveyed the rest of the store. There were two armchairs in the back corner of the shop, facing a screen placed high in the wall. The screen flickered with images, its sound too low to be heard from where he stood. No one seemed to be watching it.

"What kind?" Thor was saying as though it were the oddest question the girl could have posed him, "What kind _is_ there? We want coffee."

A young man, alone in the booth that stood in the back corner with a laptop open in front of him was trying to sneak a picture, and growing increasingly fuddled by his failures.

Loki gave a soft laugh through his nose.

"The…"

Loki glanced back and saw the barista pointing her thumb over her shoulder.

"The menu's right behind me."

"Men-you?" Thor blinked confusedly at her.

"Yeah," she said. "Right there." She turned, pointing at the list. Then she smiled at him. "Nice hat, by the way."

Thor was frowning perplexedly at the display she'd indicated, "…Thank you…" he muttered.

"So," she said, straightening her shoulders.

The bell on the door chimed and several people came in, chattering and laughing.

She raised her voice a little to be heard over them. "What can I get you?"

"It will…" Thor glanced at the people suddenly milling behind him, then, nervously, he flicked a glance at Loki. "…be a moment."

Stifling a laugh, Loki turned away. He watched as Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson walked by the front window. Rogers was lost in what appeared to be deep thought. Wilson was speaking to him. Neither knew that he watched them go by.

"What…" Thor finally asked the girl, "Is a latte?"

Loki choked on a laugh. Thor threw him an accusatory glance. Shaking his head, he left Thor at the counter.

 **V.**

Glancing behind him at what remained of his merry band, Tony almost regretted giving them the implicit go-ahead to wander away. All that remained beside himself were Clint, Scott and Natasha. And judging from the way she was continually dragging the hapless Legolas away, it would soon be only himself and Scott.

First Rogers had lagged behind with Wilson until they were lost in the milling crowds behind them, then Thor – who also had the uncanny ability to lag behind – had bounded off and nearly caused the traffic mix-up of the century as the panicked drivers scrambled to slam on their breaks and avoid hitting the god…lings.

On second thought, Tony decided, he didn't mind. For one thing, Steve was a wet blanket and even _he_ remembered the first time Thor had accompanied them on a trip to the supermarket. Or the first time Rogers had gone to the supermarket. Not to mention the first time Loki had been next to a toaster when it popped. Tony did not want to see what happened when any of them decided enough was enough in the middle of a department store complex during Christmas rush.

So, they were down to himself, Natasha, Clint and Scott. An awkward double-date of a very married man and…the rest of…them.

"Clint!" Natasha _giggled_. She tugged Clint by his upper arm across the way to another window display.

Barton went with a surprised yelp.

Tony clicked his tongue. From the day he'd met her, Natasha had gone out of her way to confound his impression of her. But, even so, she'd always struck her as more the 'cold-hearted/possibly evil' –type than the 'giggles like a little girl at Christmastime' –variety.

Clint _had_ warned him, via text. But at the time he'd assumed it was meant to be taken ironically, or possibly as some sort of hyperbole. He was utterly unprepared for the reality.

Not that it really phased him. Not much could startle him, these days.

He glanced to his right. "You're holding up surprisingly well," he told Scott.

"I –" Scott shook his head, blinking like Tony had dragged him out of deep thoughts, "I'm sorry, what?"

"You haven't said," Tony held up one finger, "'Captain America', _once_ , in the past ten minutes. And I haven't caught you throwing lost puppy-dog eyes after us to look for him either. And yes I've been watching," he clapped one hand to Lang's shoulder. "I'm proud of you."

"Um, thanks…?"

"Don't mention it."

Barton wove through the crowd and met them, rubbing his hand with a wry look on his cute little face.

Tony watched Natasha as her red head flitted through the crowd alongside them.

"You sure she hasn't got an 'other guy' we didn't know about?" Tony asked him, never letting his eyes stray from the red curls. "Like an inner," he flicked a look at Barton, "anti-grinch or a Krampus or…something?"

Barton chuckled. "Not that I know about. But we might need a lullaby right about soon," he blew out a long breath that ended in a wry chuckle. "And I thought going out with my _kids_ was hard."

"Roger that," Tony flicked out his phone with a little smile. "I'll put Dr. Banner on speed-dial."

 **VI.**

Carrying the hot beverages the barista had given him in their paper cups in both of his hands, Thor made his way across the suddenly crowded store. He found his brother sitting at a booth with his elbows on the table and his chin in his palm, looking thoughtfully out the window.

Thor's mouth was a thin line. Setting the cups very deliberately – first one and then the other – on the tabletop, he sidled into the narrow booth and cautiously lowered himself onto it.

"That would have been easier," he said, "if you had aided me."

"But you were having _such_ fun with the barista," Loki mumbled through his fingers. He didn't take his eyes from the passers-by without the glass.

For a moment, Thor let his eyes follow them. They were brightly clad, happy, their laughter clouding the bitter air. Then he shifted his gaze back to his brother. "You could have helped me."

Something slid behind Loki's eyes, "What makes you think," he asked, turning from the window with a look that might have been a smile, "that I knew any more than you did?"

Glancing past Loki's shoulder at a young man who seemed to be taking inordinate interest in them, Thor judged him harmless and lifted his own drink, "You always do."

"You said it," Loki smirked. "I didn't."

Thor slid the second drink nearer him and Loki took it.

"Besides," Loki said with a smile, "there's no fun in that."

"You and your 'fun'," Thor muttered, shaking his head. He turned awkwardly in the small booth to glance behind. "It'll be the death of you, one day."

"Undoubtedly." Loki said. "I've not been idle. They barely see us."

Thor grunted a reply. Settling himself once more, he lifted his drink to his lips. A woman carrying a tray of drinks was watching him oddly. Thor followed her with his eyes until she exited the building.

Then he caught Loki watching him. His mouth was tipped at an odd angle and he had one eyebrow raised.

Thor frowned. "What?"

"You still don't trust me?"

Thor met his eyes. "Ought I?"

"In this instance, yes." Though still mocking, Loki's gaze slipped away to the window. His fingers drummed against the paper sides of his cup.

"Then I shall."

Loki gave him a quick glance, but he said nothing.

Setting his cup firmly back on the table, Thor savored the taste. It was foamy, and had more of milk in it than he was used to. But it was not unpleasant to his tongue. He leaned back and stretched his legs beneath the tiny table.

Loki was staring out the window, watching the people as they passed with a blank look on his face. He cupped his beverage in both hands.

Thor remembered the many times they had sat thus in hostels, inns and waystops across the realms, merely the two of them, seeking adventure as their father allowed – sometimes as he had not. He recalled the friends that eventually had joined them. The laughter and comradery. He recalled, as they had aged, the change between them. It had been so insidious that he had not noticed its coming, only its presence. And by the time the change had come he had not known how to alter it, and so he had pretended that it was not there, until it had been too late.

Yet the Norns had seen fit to grant him a second chance. And thus far it seemed to be going little better than the first.

Thor sighed.

Glancing out the window in his turn he thought that it was good, still, to remember the past.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that his sigh had attracted Loki's attention. Loki was watching him, a question clear on his face. It was a question Thor was unsure how to answer, so he pretended that he did not notice. He only looked out of the window, and let his mind drift. It had been a long while since he and Loki had traveled alone, outside of immediate threat or quest.

It was not entirely unpleasant, even now. Even with all that had been altered.

Finally, Thor turned from the window. "What changed?" he asked.

Loki grimaced at the cup, lowering it onto the table a touch further from him. "I'm afraid I missed the preamble to that," he said. He eyed the cup suspiciously.

"You used to love nothing more than exploring the realms with my friends and I," Thor said.

"Ah," Loki's lips pressed together. Folding his arms, his eyes drifted to the window. "That."

"And it was always you," Thor said, tapping the bottom of his cup thoughtfully against the tabletop, watching it, "who pressed to remain longer – to learn more. It was always the rest of us who overrode you and kept on." He raised his eyes. "When did that change?"

"Perhaps I was overridden enough times that my preference was altered." Loki said flatly.

Thor shook his head but Loki darted ahead of him, cutting him off.

"And why _your_ sudden volte-face?" he asked. "Now it is you who want to learn. What of that?"

Thor glanced down. For one moment he thought of Jane Foster. Of his banishment. Of the time he'd truly believed his brother dead and lost to him. He raised his head. "I came to see things as I hadn't," he said. "You know this."

"Then why ask what you know the answer to."

"Because you haven't."

Loki gave a short, sharp laugh. "You truly think so?"

Thor sighed, leaning forward onto his elbows. "Loki, that it not as I meant it."

"I see many things differently, Thor." Loki said.

"No," Thor argued, "You've shown no less love of knowledge, Brother. If anything, you exhibit _more_. Why not here?"

Loki looked darkly out the window, his brows drawn, his mouth straight. Shifting irritably he drummed his fingers on the sides of his cup. "I don't want to speak of this."

"If you're unwilling because of the people –"

Loki interrupted him. "None of them can hear us."

Startled, Thor only looked at him.

After a moment, Loki grew uncomfortable with the scrutiny and turned on him. "Do you _have_ a question?"

The corner of Thor's mouth twitched, "So," he lifted one hand, illustrating as he spoke, "they can _barely_ see us, and they can't hear us? At all?"

Loki gave an annoyed sigh. Thor flattered himself that there might have been something of a smile beneath it. "No, Thor, that would cause _more_ stir."

Ignoring him, Thor laughed. He picked up his coffee and waved it back and forth over the table, "Can they see this?"

"Yes, Thor. They can see you being an utter buffoon."

"Well how –"

"They _see_ us, Thor. They carry no memory afterwards."

"But they hear…" Thor frowned, "nothing?"

"No. They can hear us."

"But you just said –"

Loki put his hand, palm-down, flat on the tabletop. "Will you _let me finish_?"

Thor sat back and put his hands in his lap.

Loki gave a breath. "They hear us speak, but they hear words other than those we say. Do you understand?"

"What…" Thor frowned. "What do we say? Just, random words? Alfalfa? Falafel? Turkey strap?"

Loki's green eyes flicked at him. And the corner of his mouth did twitch toward a smile. Dropping his eyes, he gave a long breath before glancing back up, and saying very slowly, "Turkey strap?"

"I don't know," Thor shrugged. Shifting, he leaned forward on his elbows. "So," he asked, "What is it that we say?"

"Currently we're discussing the games. As they are shown on…" his eyes wandered past Thor to a screen that was hanging mutely from a wall in the furthest back corner, with images flashing across it, "those."

Thor cocked his head a little to one side. "The television?"

Loki rolled his eyes. "The magic box with the tiny illusion people. Yes Thor. The television."

"You could," Thor pointed out, "have just said, 'the television.'"

Sitting back, Loki drew a long breath. "I could have 'just said' any number of things."

"Well," Thor said. "Would you rather we spoke of Midgardian 'sports'?"

Loki eyed him. "No."

"They _are_ rather unexceptional. To this day I don't understand why they're a topic of such interest to these mortals."

Loki shrugged one shoulder, eyes to the glass. "It's the best they can do."

"So now," Thor grinned, moving to lean nearer him, "We're speaking of sport in reality, _and_ in your fabricated world."

"Why," Loki looked at him rather sharply, "Why this sudden interest?"

Thor shrugged, "I've never asked before."

"I'm aware. But you're not getting answers out of me this way. I told you that I don't want to talk about it. The fact that we are in a populated place is no deterrent to me. I don't want to talk about it, because I don't. Nothing more."

Thor let him finish. Then he sat back and folded his arms across his chest.

Loki didn't acknowledge him, so he snorted. "That's not an argument."

"Yes, well," Loki glanced at him side-long, "neither is 'Mjolnir chose me, so of course I'm right.' And _yet_."

Suddenly recalling his rapidly cooling beverage, Thor sipped it. "This is about Strange, isn't it."

He watched as, for just one half-second too long, Loki didn't react. Then he slid his cup further from him across the table. "Of course not."

Thor said nothing. He sat back in the booth, with both hands flat on the table, and he watched.

Loki seethed under his scrutiny. Finally, he turned on Thor, his eyes flashing. "What?"

Thor gave him a deep nod. "Verily," he said.

"I said that I didn't wish to discuss it."

"Then don't." Thor fiddled with the thin plastic lid on his cup. "It seems you wish to speak of very little these days. That he bested you," Thor went on, musing, "in a few paltry contests hardly merits this level of animosity..."

"He's a performer of insignificant… _parlor tricks_." Loki snapped. "Where he gets the _gall_ –"

"So it _is_ about him, then."

From the other side of the booth, Loki glowered at him. Then he looked away, fidgeting with his cup, muttering, "These others are bad enough."

"I mean," Thor shrugged magnanimously, "he really _was_ quite impressive, for one studying the art as short a time as he assuredly has."

"Don't you _dare_ take his side on this."

Thor swallowed a grin. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, lifting his cup. "I'm only saying –"

"The man would be _nothing_ without his trinkets."

Thor gave a nod of consideration. "Or his Infinity Stone," he considered.

"And that's another point," Loki sat straighter, "Are you sure we should allow him to keep that?"

Thor shrugged. "I don't see why not," he said. "You yourself once said that it was folly to house the gems too near one another."

Loki pursed his lips. "It doesn't sit well with me that the _Time Stone_ is in the hands of a mortal."

"You're just unhappy that he used the Eye of Agomotto to see through your illusions." Thor smirked. He knew it was true, though Loki gave no discernable sign.

"He could do grave harm with it."

Thor gave a slow nod. "As could any."

Loki sneered. "An _Infinity Stone_ ," he muttered, "is hardly a fitting plaything for a circus performer."

"Come, Brother," Thor smiled, "such petty jealousy is beneath you."

" _Nothing_ ," Loki snapped, "is beneath me."

"Truly?" Thor laughed. He lifted his cup and swallowed the last of his coffee. "You said it," he chuckled. " _I_ did not."

Loki seethed.

"You know," Thor said. "You really should learn to think before you speak."

"You're –" a female worker came past them and Loki, immediately distracted, put out his hand to stop her. "Excuse me," he said. "I'm sorry. Would there be any way you could distract this idiot so that I could make my escape?"

"Certainly," the woman smiled. "The game's at four. And _I_ think he's pretty cute." She winked at Thor.

Looking dazed, Loki let her go.

Thor put his head back and he laughed.

Loki scowled at him, but Thor did not stop laughing, and over a minute later, Loki gave him a sharp kick beneath the table. "Stop that," he hissed. "People are looking."

"Doesn't," Thor coughed. "Doesn't your spell cover that?"

Loki's lips pressed a thin line. "Fine," he said. " _You_ stay _here_ , then."

And saying that, he rose.

"No, Brother," Thor struggled, "Wait up."

But Loki was already half-way out of the front door.

 **VII.**

"So." Tony scuffed his foot on the floor, stealing Scott's attention back from the dish of ice cream he was poking at with a tiny blue plastic spoon. "You shopping for anyone special this Christmas?"

Lang considered the question for a moment, prodding at his ice cream with the spoon, before he grimaced. "I should get something for Cassie," he said, " _still_."

"Good.' Tony nodded. "Done. Get her something nice," Tony shoved his hands in his pockets, finding Natasha and Clint where they stood in a line for hot pretzels. Slowly, but surely, they were – in fact – inching nearer the order window. "It's on me."

"You don't –"

"I know. Team discount. Just," Tony looked at him, "Nothing from one of those racy stores? Pepper does my accounting, and…you know, if _I_ don't deliver…"

Scott looked at him for a moment with a puzzled frown on his face, then blinked three times. "She's…seven years old," he said.

"Oh." Tony said. "Well. Ignore that, then."

He stopped by a pillar, and Scott stopped beside him, still holding the little paper cup his ice cream had come in, though he'd ceased to pay it any attention. Silence reigned between them for several moments while Tony watched Natasha order the pretzel she that had caught her eye, and Clint offer up the money for it.

Distant Christmas music played from speakers in the ceiling.

"She's your…daughter?" Tony asked. "Niece? Sister? Tiny sister?"  
"Daughter."

"Oh." Tony said. "Nice."

"Yeah," Scott smiled. "She's the best."

"Cool." Tony stepped away from the wall toward where the former assassins had retreated to regroup, post-pretzel acquisition.

"Clinton Francis Barton!" Natasha was laughing.

Clint looked rather pleased with himself.

"Okay, share." Tony demanded. "I want in. What just happened?"

"Francis?" a new voice said. It came from behind Clint as a tall man took the archer by the shoulder and turned him around. "Oh," the man said. "Not you."

Tony's blood rushed suddenly to his head and he stopped noticing the things without his immediate vicinity. It reached him, distantly, calculatingly, that the man was dressed in a Santa costume, with a sack slung over his shoulder. The beard was pulled too high and the hat too low to make out more of the face than the glint of eyes between them. Tony instantly disliked him.

"Can I help you?" Barton stepped easily out from beneath the man's hand.

"Nah," the man shrugged. "I thought you were somebody else. _But_ ," he hoisted his sack higher on his shoulder. "If you _do_ find Francis around here, do a pal a favor and send him my way? Oh," he glanced down, as if only just realizing how he was dressed. He changed his voice, to something he, apparently, thought more Santa-like. "He's been a naughty boy this year."

"Has he." Tony said.

Tony noticed how Natasha's eyes flicked from the stranger to him.

"Oh yeah," the man said, "big time."

"And where would your direction be?" Natasha asked coolly.

"Probably wherever there's screaming," the stranger quipped, turning around to look at her. Tony's hand closed, and fingered the spring in the underside of his watch. "For now it's the food court. _Wait…_ " The man slowly lifted one pointing finger to Natasha, then turned it on Clint, then, last of all, at Tony. "You're Tony Stark."

"That's me."

"And that makes you all, _the Avengers_?"

"Some of them." Tony said, tensely. "Who are you, again?"

"Spiderman. No, wait, sorry. I'm just a huge fan." He put a hand against his heart, whispering, "Watch your language Wade, these are the _big leagues_." Lifting his head he told Tony, "I'm Santa Claus." Putting a cupped hand to the side of his mouth and glancing furtively behind him, he whispered, "I'm one of the _good guys_. Kinda, sorta, anyway. And don't," he straightened up, "bother offering me a place on the team. I already turned the X-Men down. I have a gig in a few minutes. Gotta make some kid's dream come true. Even a _not_ -hero has to make a living. You guys should come, bring your friends…" he trailed, "must be nice to have friends…" Then he shrugged. "Ciao!"

As quickly as he'd appeared, the stranger vanished.

Tony realized he was holding his breath. Meeting Natasha's eye again, he let it out, and let his fist unclench, releasing the spring that he'd kept ready on the underside of his wrist.

"What…" Scott was tense, looking from Clint, to Natasha, to Tony, then back again, "was that?"

"Nothing." Natasha decided. She tossed her head. "Could have been a lot worse. Clint?"

"Yep." Barton brushed off the palms of his hands on his pants. "I think we're good."

Tony watched the place where the man had vanished, swallowed by the crowd.

"Eccentric," Clint was saying, "yeah. But I don't think he's a threat."

Tony did not turn from the place in the crowd where the man had disappeared.

Natasha said very softly, "Tony?"

"Yep. We're good." He turned back around, looked at them each in turn and forced a smile. "Let's get something to eat," he said lightly. "I'm famished."

"At…" Scott frowned. He glanced from Tony to Natasha, "the food court?"

"No," Tony rolled his eyes. "In the shoe department. _Yes_ the food court?"

"Okay." Natasha said. "Let's go."

Scott shrugged. He tossed the paper cup, still sticky with what was left of his ice cream, into the nearest wastebasket.

* * *

 **Cameos were one of the requests. Hope you all enjoyed this one.**

 **Part 2 of this episode shortly!**

 **This chapter's named after one of my favorite Christmas songs, which is by The Killers. I'm an unconventional-carol person ;)**


	8. Santa Baby

**I.**

Pepper sank down across from Rhodey at the table by the window. It was two in the afternoon and she'd only just managed to get out of a conference that was supposed to break for lunch at twelve thirty. The conference itself had been derailed – as she could've predicted – early on. It'd managed to get on track again as it went, but complicated questions had come up, and they had spun out into new arguments that had taken an hour and a half to even marginally resolve. Bruce had been an incredible asset to her. He had fielded questions that she had not expected and did not have the scientific background to answer.

She set her lunch on the white surface of the table and promptly forgot that it was there. The space behind her eyes ached and she put her face into her hands.

Rhodes closed his magazine, resting his chin on the back of one hand. "You look tired," he said.

Pepper laughed breathlessly at the understatement. "I am," she said. She pushed her hair back and out of her face.

"Doctor Banner seems to be enjoying the conference."

She tipped her head, "Where did you –"

Rhodes indicated a corner of the room behind her. It was a very large, very white room, full of people taking breaks from whatever it was they had been doing in the building. They milled about, singly or in little groups. Behind them, as they milled, she caught sudden sight of Banner, standing, leaning against the wall, lost from the crowd in a book splayed open on one hand, eating a bagel which he held in the other.

She laughed softly. "He sure does."

Turning back in her seat, she gave a deep sigh. "I'm sorry Rhodes,"

He looked at her for a moment, like he was startled. "It's not a problem," he said.

"It's just – my home is not my own."

He laughed. "You can say that again. But," he looked from his plate, "as developments go, it's not really a new one."

"No," she chuckled wryly. "No it's _not_."

Chewing, Rhodey gestured with his fork. "Do you ever think he's just doing it for attention?"

Pepper was reminded of her salad. She lifted her own fork and waited for the question to make sense to her. "The _entire world_ wants to know what Tony Stark thinks," she said, finally.

"Not from the world," he pointed at her with his fork, "from you."

"Rhodey," she shook her head. "My entire life _is_ paying attention to him."

When Rhodes didn't supply an answer to that she glanced up and found him fixing her with a very dry look. The kind of look one only learns from a life lived beside Tony Stark.

Re-crossing her legs she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "You think that he doesn't understand that _all this_ ," she gestured expansively to the room, "is _because_ I love him?"

Rhodey shrugged. "It's just that this last stunt reminded me of a little kid trying to impress his babysitter."

"So I should," she shrugged, "what? Drop the company?"

" _That's_ a bit drastic," Rhodes wiped his mouth with a napkin. "But you might consider taking a break until Christmas."

"Until Christmas? Do you have any idea –"

"No." Rhodey held up his hands. "No, I have no idea what that would entail. I'm not saying that you _should_. It was just an idea."

She dropped her head into her hand, "I'm sorry Rhodes."

"It's not a problem," he said. "Trust me, I get it. Just think it over. I have to get back. Are you gonna be alright?"

Pepper wasn't listening, she moved a leaf of her salad noncommittally with her fork. "I might be able to take a few extra days off. Maybe get home a little earlier…"

Rhodes pointed at her with his fork again. "I think you might have something there."

"And if we're wrong? And it's not all for my attention?"

He raised one eyebrow. "You really think we could be wrong on this?"

"No," she smiled. "I'll try it. But you have to come home with me today. He made me promise."

Rhodes thought for a moment, then he nodded. "I can arrange that."

"Can we get Vision too? He has his heart set on 'all of us' being there."

Rhodes gave a dry laugh, "You know," he said, "this is starting to get out of hand."

"Starting?"

"I'll see what I can do," Rhodes got to his feet. "For the only AI on base he's hard to find."

She put out one hand and gave his a gentle squeeze. "Thank you, Rhodey."

He smiled at her. "Don't mention it."

 **II.**

Thor caught up with his brother about a hundred yards from the door of the coffee shop.

Loki glanced smugly over his shoulder. "Did you take the booth with you?" he smirked.

" _No._ " Thor shoved his hands in his pockets.

Loki gave a low chuckle.

Thor thought how much colder it was outside after he'd grown so used to the warmth of the coffee shop. The air was crisp and it stung his nostrils. The stone beneath his feet seemed brittle with the cold, as if he might step too hard and crack it into a thousand shards.

Glancing up under the brim of his white-trimmed hat, Thor looked at his brother. Loki gave no sign that he felt the cold. Not for the first time, Thor wondered at that. But he knew better than to ask about it. Loki did not appreciate questions along that line.

"Where are you going?" he asked, finally.

"To…" Loki frowned at him, "…find the others."

"The…others," Thor said. "As in, Stark and his band."

Loki glanced his way without really turning his head, "Should I be referring to someone else?"

"You." Thor said. "Loki. _Want_ to reunite with them?"

A dismissive breath of a laugh was all Thor got in answer.

Thor lengthened his stride and stepped in front of him. "Who are you and what have you done with my brother?"

Loki rolled his eyes skyward. "Is it really _that_ unfathomable to you that I might seek them out?"

He went around Thor, and Thor let him pass.

Thor jogged to catch him up. " _Why?_ "

Loki made a face. "They're _your_ friends, Thor. Tell _me_ why."

" _I'm_ making no move to return to their company."

"And why not?" Loki's mouth tipped in a smile that _might_ have been false. Thor couldn't tell from beside him. "Was it _not_ for their company we left Asgard? Because if it's not, then by all means let us complete our operation and return."

" _Because_ ," Thor said, feeling that he was trying to explain a simple things to a witless child, "I've had their company." He disliked speaking with Loki when his brother was like this. Loki spoke _around_ things. It was an exertion Thor was unused to, to try and decode what it was that Loki would not say. Often, to spare himself the effort, he spoke directly that which was on his own mind. He took two steps before making up his mind to do so once again, and say, "I lack yours."

Loki said nothing, and when Thor looked over, his expression was difficult to read. His lips were pressed thin. He flicked a glance at Thor, then away. "They can't be hard to find," he said.

Thor gave an irritable breath. "Am I not permitted to speak with you?"

Loki's jaw tightened. "I am searching your friends out because I like them better than your interrogating. If you would have that altered, then," he huffed a breath, "find something else to talk about."

"Well, you've liked my ideas so little," Thor said, "What would you have?"

Loki said nothing. He searched the crowd ahead of them, his eyes narrowed against the sun.

"We could," Thor kicked some piece of refuse that littered the roadway, "discuss the 'Christmas Specials' Stark seems so fond of. That seems impersonal enough."

Loki gave him a disapproving glance.

"Or," Thor continued, "if you don't like that, you could share with me the details of your conversation last night."

"My conversation?"

"Yes. I'm quite curious what, _depths_ of your heart you bared to Lang."

Loki didn't answer for a moment, but when Thor looked over, he found that Loki was trying to swallow a smile before he could see it.

Thor grinned.

 **III.**

Scott stood with his back to the table, following Stark's example and watching the stranger who had confronted them just over an hour ago, as he greeted the line of children who had come to visit 'Santa' in the food court. Tony was leaning on his elbows, chewing on a toothpick. Scott stood next to him, awkwardly, with his hands in his pockets. They'd been standing like that for about ten minutes.

A little boy was climbing onto 'Santa's' lap. Scott thought he looked about five years old.

"Hello," the man said, in that fake Santa voice he'd used earlier. "What's your name?" He settled the boy on his lap. Peering into his face the man said in his own voice, "It's not 'Francis', is it?"

Scott gave a breathy laugh. He glanced at Tony. Tony did not seem to think it funny in the slightest. Scott turned his attention back to the man in the Santa costume.

"My name's Jeff," the little boy said.

"I didn't think so," the man sighed. "Anyway," he changed back to his 'Santa' voice, "Ho, ho, ho! Hello Jeffery. What do _you_ want for Christmas this year?"

"I want balls!"

'Santa' lost his concentration. He shook his head. "Excuse me?"

"I want a _soccer_ ball," the little guy counted off on his fingers, "and a _baseball_ , and a _basketball_. I want to play _all_ the games when I'm big enough."

" _Oh_. Got it." Flicking back into the act he said, "Ho, ho! I think one of my elves will have just the thing. Hey," he turned around, "Kevin, this little guy wants balls.

"Yep," he told the kid, patting him on the back. "Head over to the guy in the green tights. _He_ 's got what you're looking for."

"Notice anything?" Stark asked.

Scott bent and put his elbows on the railing. "No…? Should I? Is he…dangerous?"

"Could be." Stark flicked the toothpick into a garbage can. "Occupational hazard," he explained, "Anyone could be dangerous."

"Are you trying to scare him?" Barton's voice broke in on them and Scott turned.

The archer had stopped part-way down the stairs just behind them.

"Because unless your name's 'Francis' I think you're safe from this guy." Barton said. "Come on."

"For now," Tony muttered.

Clint raised his eyebrows. "That's all we ask," he said. He chuckled wryly. "Livin' in the moment." Turning, he waved Scott and Tony after him.

Glancing behind him to be certain of Tony's pursuit, Scott started up the steps, and, grumbling under his breath, Tony followed.

"What's his obsession?" Scott asked, running up beside the archer.

Clint stopped, "Don't know his story," he said. He looked down the way first to his right, and then his left. Then, obeying some impulse Scott did not understand, he turned left and started walking.

"Where are we going?"

The archer did not break stride, saying over his shoulder, "Tasha went this way."

 **IV.**

"These are all…artifacts?" Wanda asked.

The Cloak of Levitation lifted Strange so that his feet only just trailed along the ground. He looked over his shoulder through the various cases and crates at the girl. She stood with her nose wrinkled and her dark eyes wondering.

"They are," he answered, proudly. "Each one has a story."

She lifted herself, by her own, nebulous power, and carried herself between the cases, admiring them as she went. She was hesitant, he noticed – no less than she had been the first time they'd met. Wary, even. Like an animal that had been hurt, but could not quite curb its own curiosity. "Do you know their stories?" she asked. She set herself delicately on the floor a few displays away from him.

"A few of them," he said. "Less than I'd like to. Speaking of stories," he glanced at her through the glass between them, "I'd like to know yours."

Something behind her eyes abruptly closed. Her mouth pressed a line. She turned her head away and without answering she moved farther from him, losing herself among the displays.

"Slow down," bending the air he moved through it, appearing before her in the next room.

She starred startled at the space around her. The dark wood, the wallpaper, the desk and upholstered chair. The utter lack of displays behind which she might hide. She recovered quickly and frowned at him.

"Don't run off like that," he said. He set himself lightly on the floor. "There are…dangers, here, in the Sanctum. Some even I don't know about."

The smile that touched her mouth was bitter beyond her years. "I think I can handle myself."

"So did I," he said, seriously.

He took both her forearms in his hands.

Her brow creased with confusion, but she made no move to stop him, and the liquid depths of her eyes remained dark.

"I want to help you," he said. "Your…abilities are…unlike anything I've ever seen," he looked at her. "But that doesn't mean there's nothing I can teach you."

"I've been doing all right on my own."

He let her move away from him. She brushed her hair behind her ear with one, graceful hand.

"Think about it," he said, softly.

Glancing at him, she nodded her head.

"You'll think about it?" he prodded.

Her mouth quirked the nearest bit toward a smile. "I'll think about it," she promised.

 **V.**

As appealing as the brightly-colored sign above the door had been, Natasha was beginning seriously to doubt the judgement behind her decision to drag the team into 'Sugar Rush'. She'd been there once before with Pepper, as her undercover bodyguard some years ago, when Pepper had had to purchase a last-minute gift for an investor's daughter. That had been in the early summertime, when the air-conditioning of the complex was a welcome alternative to the heat of the sun outdoors.

Somehow, the narrow aisles were less forgiving of Christmas-traffic.

Or, for that matter, of Thor's bulk.

"I didn't know they put this many sweets," the god marveled, sidling awkwardly down the aisle. A woman with a basket on her arm and her head down jostled against him and he knocked into the shelf, spilling a basket of goodies. He yelped, trying in vain to right it before it could fall, " _in one place_!"

"Woah, World War Z," Tony said, "you gotta watch those hips."

Natasha scanned the shelf of brightly colored goodies stacked in their baskets and their festive packaging. Half-glancing back at Thor's plight, she snorted a laugh.

Crouching down to help Thor pick up the toppled candies, Clint scoffed. "They don't have candy stores in Asgard?"

Checking to make sure the shelf was once again stable, Thor put his hands on his hips. "Nothing akin to this."

'Popcorn', Natasha thought, was a unique flavor for a candy stick. Cooper would laugh at that. Smiling, she plucked one out of its basket.

"Did you hear the guy in the booth next to us?" Scott was saying to Tony, "He said something about a billion dollar deal."

"Yeah," Stark said. "I heard him. What, an old co-worker of yours?" He flicked Scott an indignant look, "You _do_ know I'm not the _only_ billionaire in this town?"

Natasha wondered what on earth 'Princess Unikitty' was supposed to taste like. Prompted by curiosity and the cheerful color of the candy stick, she chose one. She thought of Lila.

"Yeah, yeah," Scott said, "Of course. Do you know who he was?"

"Why?" Stark snorted. "You think billionaires all hang out? Do ex-cons meet up and have a monthly convention? Billionaires – as a genus – don't get along."

'Kaleidoscope.' Curious, Natasha drew out the candy stick. Whatever it _tasted_ like, it did _look_ like its namesake. With a little shrug, she tucked it into the collection steadily accumulating in her fist.

"But," Stark continued, "in answer to your question, yes. I do know him. _Of_ him. Stanley, or – something like that. I don't know him personally. He makes comic books. Or pizzas."

Scott turned quizzically, "Comic books?"

"Yep. Age of the Hero – watch your head – in case you hadn't noticed. Hey, is that Toby Maguire?"

" _Who_?"

Tony scoffed, "Spiderman."

"'Pickles,'" Natasha read aloud, "'Bacon 'n'eggs,' and 'butter.' Who thinks up these things?"

"Someone who gets paid a lot more than I do," Clint answered.

Natasha gave a wry laugh. She chose 'Pickles', because she thought Bruce might like it.

"Tasha – sorry ma'am," Clint jostled against her, glancing behind him at the impatient woman who was trying to pass. "You think it's getting a little crowded?"

"Sure," she said.

Looking behind her she saw Thor, up on his toes, peering into a nearly-empty basket that was above even his eye-level. Loki was standing next to him, with both hands in his pockets. He grimaced as a young girl pushed between the two of them. Thor seemed amused. Tony was pulling off his glasses to get a better look at Scott. "What do you _mean_ , you haven't seen _Kick Ass_?"

She looked back at Clint. "Maybe you'd better take them out."

"You sure?"

"I still have…" she opened her palm, "… _eight_ to go."

"And you have…?"

"Four."

He gave a curt nod. "Wait outside it is."

"Thanks, Clint."

An 'Eggnog', 'Cinnamon Cookie', 'Salted Caramel', 'Cheese Stick', 'Barbecue', 'Apple Pie', 'Sunflower Supreme' and 'Honey Comb' candy stick later, Natasha wove her way back to the front of the store. She picked up a few things as she went – Clove Balls, Ginger Gummies, Wintergreen Licorice Rope and – on impulse because she could only imagine the questions Thor would ask – Horehound Drops.

As she stood in line, she wondered what horehound was, and where it came from.

The store was warm. It hummed with voices and rustling paper, and beneath the voices, the insistent crooning of some old Christmas Classic whose identity would only become apparent once the crowds subsided. The sound was punctuated every now and again by the _ding_ of the cash register. There was only one, so the line moved slowly, but Natasha didn't mind.

The person in line just before her, was a little boy. Probably nine years old, with rumpled, sandy hair that stuck up at all angles, and a fist of crumpled dollar bills in his hand. She'd been looking, to see if anyone had a watchful eye on the boy – a parent, a grandparent – but so far she'd found no one.

Over the heads of the people and out the front window, she could see Tony. He was standing next to a bench by a fountain inside the concourse, no doubt elucidating some point of modern culture to Scott and Thor who sat on the bench before him, as the willing – if captive – audience he craved. She found Clint standing against the wall directly beside the front window, periodically glancing from the phone in his hand to the others by the fountain, to the doorway of the shop.

Following his glance over the heads of the customers, Natasha found Loki, standing just outside of the path to the door, flicking through a rack of magazines with an uninterested look on his face.

The heat was getting to her, a little. Natasha felt tired, lulled by the rustling and the warmth. The _ding_ of the register startled her.

The clerk, she noticed, was a remarkably even-keeled young man with curly dark hair and a spray of freckles across his nose whose name-tag called him 'Connor'.

The boy proudly gave Connor his wad of bills.

Connor counted the money, briskly, but not unkindly, then informed the boy that he hadn't got quite enough for his purchase. He'd have to choose something to leave behind.

The boy's face fell.

"How much does he need?" Natasha asked. Momentarily, she was surprised that the voice was her own.

"Uhh…two seventy-three."

Natasha handed him a bill.

Giving her a grateful smile, Connor took the money and he rang up the boy's purchase, and handed him first the bag, then the change. "There you go."

His cheeks flushed in embarrassment, the boy wordlessly offered her the money in his hand.

Natasha smiled. She pushed his hand away. "You keep it," she said. She had the absurd impulse to tell him it was the least she could do.

He stammered a quick thank you to her before he fled.

Watching him disappear around the corner, Natasha turned back to the counter.

"He's," Connor stammered, drawing his hand back, "not with you?"

Laying out her armload of goodies, Natasha shook her head. "Nope." She didn't meet his eyes. "Just these today."

Connor wasn't looking at the candy. "I thought he was…your son or…something."

"No." She smiled. "How much do I owe you?"

Connor shook himself, "Oh, yeah," and he rang up the candy. He didn't say anything while he did it, and she made no move to prompt him. She kept her eyes lowered, and her hands inside the pockets of her coat.

"That was really cool of you," Connor said, finally, getting over his daze as he counted out her change.

Natasha gave her best shrug. "'Tis the season," she smiled.

"Yeah…" Connor smiled. He nodded his head as he gained confidence, "Yeah it is. _Merry Christmas_."

She took her bag. "Merry Christmas."

Eyes were on her. Searching eyes. Years of experience had taught her to know the difference.

When she glanced up from under her bangs, fixing the collar of her coat, it was only Loki. He stood by the magazine rack, but made no secret that he watched her. He raised one eyebrow in a silent question.

Natasha turned away. She found Clint.

He straightened from the wall. "You good to go?"

"All set," she smiled.

He looked at her, straight-on, "You sure?"

She gave him a smile. "Of course."

"Took you long enough," Stark muttered. "Where to next?"

"Why don't we let Clint decide?" Natasha said.

"Me?" Clint blinked.

 **VI.**

"Tower, sweet Tower," Tony pushed open the front doors, "Oh how I've missed thee."

Behind him rose the cacophony of people entering a building in wintertime. The struggle between shedding layers and holding packages was begun.

Tony tossed his coat and scarf onto a desk that stood by the door.

"Welcome home, Sir," a familiar voice greeted him.

"Vision!" Tony threw up his hands, "you _do_ speak to me."

"I apologize, Sir," Vision inclined his head in a slight bow, "I'm afraid they have been keeping me quite busy, these days."

"Hill and Fury _would_ hog you," Tony clapped a hand to the AI's shoulder. "So, I take it the others are here. Rhodey, Pepper, Banner."

"We're all here, Tony," Rhodes greeted him, smiling. He wore a dark sweater and had one hand in his pocket. "So, what's the occasion?"

"What is this," Tony plucked at the front of his sweater, "a funeral? No occasion. Just my party. Did Wanda and Strange wander back yet?"

"Yes Sir," Vision followed with his hands clasped easily behind his back, "They came in merely a few moments prior to your arrival."

"Wilson?" Tony asked, "Rogers?"

"Merely a few moments prior to Dr. Strange and Miss Maximoff."

Tony turned, pointing one finger at the AI, "I'll win you back yet," he said. "You're too good for this 'hero' business. Hey, any ideas what Pepper wants for dinner? Fun, easy, good for some…fifteen people?"

"May I suggest pizza, Sir?"

"I like the way you think."

"You did design the prototype for my brain, Sir."

Chuckling, Tony beat the rest of his guests down the hall to the common room from which he could distinctly hear Christmas music.

"Mistletoe?" he asked. "When did _that_ happen? 'Cause I woulda definitely noticed that."

Pepper was curled on the couch, talking to Wanda, but she got up when she saw Tony enter and came over to him in her sock feet. "While you were out," she smiled. She put her hands on his shoulders and went up on her toes to kiss him. "Merry Christmas, Tony."

"Are you…" Tony shook his head. "Are you gonna poison me now – or – something?"

Steve, who was on the opposite couch, dropped his head back, " _Tony_ ,"

"Merry – um," Tony recovered himself. "Right. Merry Christmas."

The others, Clint, Scott, Natasha, Thor and Loki were all coming up the hall behind him, and he shuffled Pepper awkwardly out of their way.

"Guys," he said, "Mistletoe."

Strange turned to greet them from the window, with a half-smile on his face. "I've been catching up on my Nordic lore…"

Tony tipped his head, still fumbling, "Considering,"

"Indeed." Strange inclined his chin. "And isn't there a story where you, Loki, killed a man with mistletoe?"

"Killed a –" Tony held up one hand. "Way to kill the mood, Mister Doctor."

"Funny," Banner acknowledged.

"Thank you," said Tony.

Bruce turned back to the god in question, "But is it true?"

"It was quite a bit more complicated than that," Loki said.

"Simple answer being…" Sam prompted, setting his mug down on the table between himself and Bruce.

"Simple answer," Thor interrupted, "being yes."

"Mistletoe," Sam looked at all of them sarcastically, then he laughed. Turning back to face Loki he said, "You are one scary dude!"

Loki gave a slight, if smug, smile.

"I'm gonna go sit down," Pepper told him.

"I'll come with…" Tony followed her. "So you've," he started, reestablishing, "changed your mind? Because – and correct me if I'm wrong – two days ago you thought this was the worst idea I'd ever come up with."

"Mm," she winced, settling herself back beside Wanda on the couch, "the _worst_ …?"

"Okay, maybe not the worst, but _among_ the worst."

"I think you're right," she said simply. "I _do_ get too busy."

"Wait," Tony stood up and spread his arms to be sure he had the attention of the room. "Repeat – no,"

Rhodey was standing with his chin in his hand, "Bag yourself, Jack."

Tony ignored him. "Everyone," he said, then he looked at Pepper, "could you repeat that – what you just said – please?"

Pepper's face broke into a smile. "Have your party, Tony."

"Couldn't you just say it? Just once?"

"I already did."

"Just one _more_ time."

"It's not Christmas yet."

"You all heard her," Tony said. "You all heard her the first time, right?"

"Nope," Rhodey shook his head, "No, actually. I didn't…I didn't hear anything. Did you hear…anything?"

Wilson grimaced, " _Weeellll…_ "

"Steve?" Tony prompted.

Rogers gave him a rueful smile, "I'm with Rhodes on this one."

"Bruce?"

Swallowing a smile, Bruce shook his head.

"Nothing?"

"Not a peep."

"You people are awful." Tony decided. "You know what? You know what I'll do? I'm gonna order a…half a dozen pizzas," he backed across the room to where Thor was standing and threw an arm up and around the god's back. "And I'm going to share them with Thor, because _he_ hears only good things about me. Isn't that right, Big Guy?"

"Oh yes," Thor laughed, "Anything that will get me nearer to one of your pizzas."

Several people laughed.

Sam protested, "That's not fair,"

Tony patted Thor's chest, "And then me and my good-buddy Thor are going to sit around in our socks, amid, _boxes_ , of pizzas, and we're gonna watch _National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation_ , because Clark's story is my story, this Christmas, and _I'm_ going to have a good time."

He turned on Loki, "We've gotta find you a Margo."

Loki grimaced, "A what?"

Tony ignored him. He pointed at Steve, "You're Aunt Bethany."

"And here I was," Pepper mused, "thinking that _Home Alone_ was your Christmas story."

"We can do that one too," Tony said. "That's a good one. Scott, you can be one of the infamous 'Wet Bandits.'"

Scott laughed ruefully.

Tony went back to Loki again, "You might have to do double-shift as the other bandit."

Giving a weirdly tolerant sigh, Loki folded his arms. It _almost_ reminded Tony of someone…and he was disconcerted to find that Pepper currently had a similar look on her face. He put that thought out of his head as one of the worst coincidences that had ever occurred to him.

"It's one of the sadder villainous attempts in cinematic history," he said. "It's about as laughable as your attempt on us back in twenty-twelve. Remember _that_ Reindeer Games?"

"I don't…" Loki frowned, glancing at his brother, "have any idea what he's talking about."

"I believe that he's," Thor stage-whispered – which, honestly, Tony reasoned, _was_ Thor's approximation of a whisper, "referring to the incident with the Chitauri."

"I think it was a bit more than an 'incident'," Rhodes said.

"Stark," Thor said, putting a firm hand on his brother's shoulder and coming between him and Tony, "I do not understand what reference you make, but you _do_ know that my brother was exonerated by my father of any guilt he may have suffered in regards to _that_ attack."

Delicately, Loki moved Thor's hand off his shoulder. "Thor," he cautioned.

"Yeah," Tony said. "I know. But the attack itself was laughable."

"Stark…" Steve interrupted.

"Maybe now's not the time," Sam agreed.

"Because it was _designed_ to fail!" Thor said. His eyes flashed. "Selvig is a good man, but do you think he knew enough of the Infinity Stones to so work one of them that it would counter the other and closed the portal?"

"Guys," Natasha said, putting her arm over the back of the chair she'd chosen and turning to face them. "We've been over this."

"Yeah," Steve stood up. "That's enough."

Tony looked at all of them. Steve, Pepper, Wanda, Rhodes, Wilson, Lang, Strange, Barton and Natasha, all watching him with guarded or disapproving looks. He raised both hands in front of his chest, palms out, a mute surrender. In the doorway behind him, Banner and Vision were looking at each other like kids, afraid of their parents' fighting. Thor stood with his fists clenched, and Loki remained behind him – oddly non-combative, for once – with his eyes closed.

Thor's eyes scanned their faces. Then he grit his teeth.

"My apologies, Natasha," he said. "Lady Pepper." He gave a slight bow.

Stepping back, he levelled a look at Tony that said he was not sorry at all, then another at the others in the room, daring them to confront him, and, lastly, one at his brother. It was a look Loki would not meet.

With a low growl, Thor turned on his heel. "I'm going out for some air."

"Okay," Tony decided, as soon as he was gone, "not _Home Alone,_ then."

Distantly, the front door slammed.

Loki sighed. Then he left. Tony assumed he'd gone after his brother. No one volunteered to follow him.

Pepper got up from the couch, her tone disapproving, "Tony,"

Scott looked to his right and his left, then raised his hand. "What just happened?"

Tony turned on his heel to face him. "I made a joke," he said.

Pepper set a coaster down harder on the coffee table than Tony felt it merited. "It was in poor taste, Tony."

"What?" Tony protested, turning round to meet her, "Now you're gonna be mad at me?"

"You _know_ better," she pled. Coming over to him she pushed both hands against his chest. Then she sighed and she put a hand to her forehead, sliding the red fringe of her bangs out of her face. "Hopefully they'll work it out out there and this won't turn into a fight," she said. "God only knows _what_ Loki's going to say to him."

"See?" Tony pointed out. "You're doing it too."

Pepper frowned at him, her hand on her hip, "Doing…?"

Tony shrugged. "I mean, it's not like Tod's been one of the 'good guys' that long."

Pepper closed her eyes and she sighed. " _Tony_ ," she said. Then she tipped her chin back and opened her eyes. "And who are you?" she asked. "Uncle Eddy?"

"Nah. That's Barton."

From the couch behind them Clint protested.

"I _was_ gonna say Uncle Lester," Tony told him, "But then I remembered your secret family."

"I _said_ I was sorry,"

"You _know_ he's not gonna let it go," he heard Natasha tell Barton. He smirked.

Pepper's sarcastic 'uh-huh' drowned out any reply Barton could have had to that. "Tony," she said, "the problem is, that I don't know that he _wants_ Thor to get along with you."

Tony blinked. "Can you explain to me how that's different than _anything_ I've said so far?"

Closing her eyes, she sighed. One hand slid down from his shoulder and rested in the old place on his chest where the arc reactor had been.

Then she opened her eyes and she looked at him. "Order pizza," she said. "We have some cleaning up to do."

 **VII.**

Thor was out in what passed for a lawn, pacing, stiff-legged, back and forth across the frost-shriveled glass.

Loki stepped just out of the way of the door. It drifted soundlessly shut behind him. He let out a long breath that fogged on the air.

Thor did not slow in his pacing.

Loki folded his arms across his chest and he looked out. The sky was distant and heavy with oppressively grey clouds. The wind had a tang in it that he recognized. It would snow before long. The stone that the wall was made up of was an icy pressure on the back of his shoulder.

"Thor,"

Thor did not break stride.

Loki sighed. His hand pressed the side of his nose. For the life of him, he didn't know why it was he bothered. "What are you doing?"

"Doing?" Thor demanded, coming to an abrupt halt. "I am defending _your_ honor and the honor of our family." Thor snorted, going back to his pacing, muttering to himself, "Stark and his short-sighted, witless attempts…"

"We've talked about this." Loki interrupted him.

"No." Thor said.

In two strides Thor had cleared the space between them. Loki pressed back against the wall with a quick intake of breath, and it was only when his hand touched the cold of the stone of it that he was aware that he'd moved.

"But you were _right_ , Loki," Thor insisted. "All this time you were right and I did not see it."

Loki raised one hand and pressed Thor's chest back. "You've no idea how happy that makes me," he said blandly.

"Even _now_ ," Thor threw out an arm toward the door, "they do not trust you, and I will not have it." He scoffed, "Such friends as _these_. I was no more than a blind fool, Loki. I was wrong to bring you here. Get your things. We're leaving for home."

Loki glanced at the grey of the stone beneath his feet, then at the mirroring color of the slatey sky. His breath rose in a cloud. The air was bitterly cold, and he folded his arms to fend off the chill.

"No," he said.

"No?" Thor gave a breath of a laugh, whirling back, "You've longed for all this time to return home – you would not be happy until I offered it, and now, as soon as I have –"

"You misunderstand."

" _What_ ," Thor laughed, "do I not understand?"

"Distrust," Loki said. Only vaguely knowing what it was he was trying to do, he spun his words together with care. "I am used to – In fact, I prefer it. It implies that my associates have some, _modicum_ , of sense. But I will not be dragged about by your temper any longer," he shook his head, strengthening his stance. "And that's all this is."

Thor's open face twisted with hurt. "You _doubt_ me?"

"Not the sincerity of your heart," Loki smiled, just slightly, softening, "But perhaps your speed of mind."

Thor shook his head, looking for some counterargument.

"You'd be bowing to Stark's challenge," Loki pointed out, before he could find one.

"Don't think you can dissuade me so easily, Brother," Thor said. He started pacing again, more comfortable in the familiar territory their argument had ventured to. "I know your tricks."

Loki noted that Thor was less agitated than he had been, just moments before. "Well," he shrugged, "if that's _not_ as it is, then you run off back home where you can't hear the mockery of your friends over the approving roar of your subjects."

"I can see what you're doing, Little Brother," Thor almost smiled.

Loki smirked. "Is it working?"

Thor stopped, turning to face him, the better to gauge how his next words struck.

Loki didn't let himself deflect, knowing that to do so would bring Thor to doubt him and only fan the flames he'd been trying this whole time to beat out.

"You want to stay," Thor said.

The accusation startled him more than it should have, considering. "No," he said. He covered the slip quickly enough that he could imagine Thor hadn't noticed it. "But _you_ do. And as soon as your temper's cooled you'll remember that. If I let you take me home with you now it'll be to none of _my_ good as you'll only turn about and take me directly back. So," he spread one hand, "If you need to go so as to make some grandiose point of your indignation, then do it. I will await your return here."

"Then," Thor folded his arms, facing him with amusement flashing in his blue eyes, "what, do _you_ suggest?"

"Apart from getting back _inside_ ," Loki said. "I suggest as I have from the beginning that you play nicely with Stark and let the past remain the past. As Lady Romanoff was kind enough to point out for me, we've been through all of this before."

Thor stepped forward in one quick movement, and was very close to him, suddenly, searching his eyes. Loki was pointedly aware of their height difference, no matter how slight it might have been, and of the heat that radiated off of Thor's body. His own hands were very cold.

"Are you _sure_ , Loki?"

"Absolutely," he said, with an assurance he did not feel. "And besides," he continued, moving back to a plane where he felt more sure-footed. "You _did_ promise Mother you would not get into any unmerited combat."

Thor's brows rose incredulously, "You're telling me it was not merited? _You_?"

"I'll fight my own battles, thank you." Loki slid out from the wall. He was unprepared for how much colder he was with even the relatively small alteration of the absence of cold stone behind his back.

Thor turned, slowly, following him with his eyes. "They are not your battles alone, Brother," he said.

His scrutiny made Loki squirm, and he turned away from Thor, as though only to look at the sky. But Thor said nothing more, and he made no move, so, Loki let out a long breath.

"You judge your friends harshly," he said, at length.

"And _you_ ," Thor's voice rumbled from behind him, no nearer than it had been before, which was some relief, "forget that Father did not keep the circumstances that prompted his ruling for himself alone."

Loki's mouth twisted to one side. He said nothing.

Behind him, he heard Thor give a long sigh. "Very well, Loki," he said. "So be it."

He heard Thor's steps, evenly-spaced and deliberate. They paused as they came to the door. "Are you coming?"

His face very blank, Loki turned and followed him.

Behind them, the first, icy flakes began to fall.

* * *

 **I know I said 'a couple days'. My list of pathetic excuses include flu, birth in the family, 4 OTHER birthdays in the family, AND a holiday.**

 **Apologies.**

 **Also, Happy Easter - lol.**

* * *

 **Just as a poll for anybody out there listening, is it out-of-season for a Christmas story?**


	9. O Tannenbaum

**I.**

The morning, so far, was quiet. And Pepper was thankful. These were the things she missed when she had work. She'd showered and dressed at her own pace, and she'd left Tony asleep – which was a rare thing in and of itself – slipping down to the next floor to read quietly. The Avengers came and went as she read, their voices low and motions subdued.

Pepper stood on the kitchenette side of the bar, and she sipped the cup of coffee she'd prepared herself. She looked out the window. It had snowed during the night, and the ground was striped with patches of undisturbed white between the dirty brown tracks left by the vehicles on the roadway.

Bruce and Natasha were sitting together, talking softly on the far side of the bar. They laughed, and Pepper smiled.

Clint sat stoically on a bar stool on Natasha's left side, nursing a black coffee.

The teapot shrieked, momentarily startling her, and she turned quickly to flick it off and pour the hot water. She slid the steaming cup across the bar to Bruce. Taking it, he smiled his thanks.

"I," Tony's voice behind her came muffled through a towel, "have a dream."

Pepper smiled, "Morning Tony."

"It's more of an epiphany, actually," he said, dropping the towel across his shoulders. His damp hair stuck out at all angles. "Morning Gang."

Pepper tipped her head back and bit her lip, searching through the files of useless information she'd learned to store, ignoring him.

Tony came very close to her. "Aren't you gonna ask?"

"No," she shook her head, swallowing her smile, "Epiphany – if I remember – is _after_ Christmas. So it can wait."

"She's not wrong," Bruce interjected.

Tony hushed him. "You're, ruining my entrance," he told her.

"We all know how much you love making a big scene," Pepper said, putting her back to a cabinet and picking up her coffee. "Why don't you let us know, Tony. I'm sure we're all curious."

"Was that, sarcasm?"

She gave her head a quick shake, blowing on the steam. She cupped both hands around the drink and savored its warmth.

"Yeah," Clint croaked, hunched over his coffee, "the suspense is killing me."

"That," Tony pointed at him, "is precisely the enthusiasm I'm looking for. I know what we're missing." He looked at Pepper. "We need a tree."

Pepper choked. She set her mug carefully on the counter. Bruce was coughing and Natasha patted his back. Clint only shook his head and muttered something about 'billionaires'.

"A _tree_ , Tony?" she asked, "How many did you already have installed?"

"Twenty-seven," he deadpanned. "But this would be different. Some sweaty workmen picked out _those_ trees, and this one," he indicated a space of air with one hand.

Pepper watched him skeptically.

"would be our very own 'Avengers' Family Christmas Tree.'" He brought both hands together in front of his chest, " _Tell me_ that doesn't sound good to you."

Clint laughed, "We've gotta stop letting him watch television," he said.

"Which leads me to the sequel," Tony said, pivoting on his heel, "to _you_ , Eddy, I offer an invitation."

"Nope." Clint took a generous swig of his coffee.

Tony spread his hands. "You didn't even let me say it."

"Didn't need to," Clint set his mug back on the bar. "With a preamble like that…" he chuckled.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Laura and the kids would love it," he said. "How many Christmases have they spent in New York City? I'm guessing zero. Am I right? Uh-huh. Thought so. Zero. You were going back tomorrow?"

Clint raised one eyebrow, peering at him without moving his chin, "That was the plan."

"And you," Tony pointed at Natasha, "were supposed to go with him."

Natasha nodded her head.

" _Boy_ am I good."

"She's spent Christmas with us for years," Clint sighed. He turned a baleful look to his right, "You think it's a good idea, don't you, Tasha?"

She laughed a little, "I don't think it's a _bad_ one. I mean," she shrugged, "why not?"

Barton groaned, "Do you know hard it's gonna be to get plane tickets for three kids this time of year?"

"He _does_ have a point there," Bruce put in.

"Not for all of us it isn't." Tony quipped, "And whose side are you _on_ , Bruce? I thought you were supposed to be on _my side_. It's _your_ significant other we're arguing about here." He looked at Barton. "It's her I mean, not," he shrugged, "you know – _Come on_ , Barton. It'll be fun."

"We'd love to see Laura and the kids," Pepper said. "Not that," she caught herself, "not that _I_ had anything to do with this. I'm just hearing this now."

Tony looked at her, "And you're _not_ upset?"

"That you're inviting _another_ three children into my tower?"  
"My." Tony said, "Tower."

"No," Pepper smiled. "I'm not upset."

Barton sighed. "I'll call Laura."

"'Course you will," Tony smirked.

"I said I'd _call_ her," Barton said, knocking back the rest of his coffee and slinging himself down from the bar stool, "Not that I'd make her move mountains."

Tony flicked his wrist, motioning Clint toward the door.

"Children, not mountains. And you," he pointed at Natasha, "I need you here. Keep Pepper happy."

Pepper started to protest.

"Hold it _right there_." Clint backpedaled. "There's no way Laura's gonna bite if I come home alone."

Tony turned to look at Pepper. "I think we really need to watch that now," he smiled. " _Home Alone_ ," he explained. "It's a classic."

Pepper put a hand on his shoulder to move him out of her line of sight. "You can go, Natasha. I don't know what he's thinking."

"I'd…" Natasha pursed her lips for a beat, "rather not, actually."

Tony clapped his hands once and pointed at Bruce.

"If we were _staying_ ," Natasha interrupted him, "that would be one thing. But if we're just gonna go and come back…"

"I have a solution." Tony raised his hand.

Pepper looked at him skeptically.

"Don't give me that face," he said. "For once it was a good idea."

"Which none of us will know because you won't just say it." Pepper prompted.

"What I was _going_ to say, before I got shut down by the party police," Tony eyed her reproachfully, "was that Barton should trade Tasha for Wanda."

Pepper just looked at him, and she forgot everything she had been about to say. It was a simple solution, easy enough if everyone concerned was willing. It was only that she'd expected something more extravagant.

It seemed that the rest of them had, too. They all watched Tony, and no one said anything.

"It's just a thought," Tony shrugged. "Not like I've spent any time thinking about this…at all. Not like I'm a genius or anything. Natasha wants to stay here. _I_ want Natasha to stay here – not for any special reason," he gestured at Pepper, "so stop looking at me like that."

Pepper sighed. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Natasha's mouth creep up in one corner.

" _You_ ," Tony turned back to Clint, "want somebody to take that extra ticket and help you kidnap the smaller agents. But you also want somebody to look after Wanda – You didn't think I'd notice it, but I did. You can't tell me you haven't – if you'll pardon the expression – _taken her under your_ – albeit proverbial – _wing_."

Banner gave a soft laugh, "Nice, Stark."

"You think that one up yourself?" Clint asked dryly. He folded his arms.

"Yes. Yes I did, actually. Thanks for noticing. It'd be good to get her out. Interaction's not her strongest suit if anybody here's noticed, and I hear those on your payroll are difficult to ignore."

"I'll call her," Clint said again.

"Yes. Please do. It'd be an awkward surprise. Not that we're not good at those. And in the meantime? Tree."

Shaking her head, Pepper set her mug on the counter. "Do we really need _another_ tree, Tony?"

"Yes," Tony said, emphatically, "Yes we do."

"Are you _serious_?" Barton groaned.

"What's it to you?" Tony asked, "Call the wife."

"No. I had _dreams_ about trees."

Natasha half-turned to better face him, "Christmas trees?"  
"Yes, Nat, Christmas trees. They were everywhere. I was _showering_ with one."

Bruce's eyebrows went up, "That doesn't sound safe."

"The worst part was the Christmas carols."

Natasha hummed, " _…do you see what I see?..._ "

"Yes, Nat," Clint rubbed his eyes. "All the favorites. _He sees you when your sleeping, he knows when you're awake_ …"

"That's…creepy." Tony decided. "Call your wife. Then assemble for Operation Tree Location."

Clint looked at Pepper, and she nodded her head. Shaking his with a dry chuckle, he left.

She turned slowly to Tony, "You're too late to have them," she smiled. She sipped her coffee. "We have plans for the afternoon."

Tony blinked at her, "You _stole_ my team?"

"You _did_ sleep in," Natasha offered.

Tony turned on her. "Stop _being evil_."

Pepper gave a slow nod. "I did," she said. "I did steal them."

"What did you do to my team?"

"Well," Pepper crossed her ankles, "Natasha, Steve, Scott and Thor –"

"Wait, Thor's still _here_?"

"…have agreed to help me make Christmas cookies. Bruce, Clint and Vision have volunteered to help me unpack _my_ Christmas decorations."

Tony gestured the mostly-empty room, "Okay," he asked. "Where are they?"

"Sam took _my_ car," she said, forestalling any chance he had to be upset that she'd loaned one of his without permission, "and they went shopping."

Tony looked at her, dryly. "You sent _Thor_ , to the grocery store?"

"He needed specialty items."

"Without adult – and by that I mean _female_ – supervision?"

"They'll be fine," Natasha promised.

"So…what are you doing with the other…three?"

Pepper cocked her head, "I…hadn't…"

"Let me see if I got this straight," Tony interrupted, counting on his fingers "No, I'm right. You've got three," he held up three, "unaccounted for. So that leaves me…Strange, Wanda and Loki. Unless you had plans for _them_ that you're unwilling to divulge until awkwardly late in my planning process."

" _That_ …sounds risky," Natasha said.

"It sounds like a disaster in slow motion," Bruce agreed.

Tony waved at them, "Answer my question," he told Pepper.

"No," she said, very slowly. "None of them were…up yet."

"Where are they now?"

"Probably," Bruce said, "still in their rooms. But you can't be thinking –"

Tony snapped his fingers. "They're mine."

Bruce was looking at Tony with no expression on his face. "You sure about this, Tony?"

"After last night?" Natasha cautioned, "I don't know if I'd try it, Stark."

"You guys are so cute. You're like an old married couple. Finishing each other's sentences. I have Strange. He's unequivocally on my side."

Pepper slowly put her mug down. "Tony," she said.

"You know what?" Bruce interrupted her. "I change my vote. I think you should let them go."

Pepper looked at him, " _What_?"

"Doctor's orders." Tony spun on his heel. "But tonight?" he said over his shoulder, "We're _all_ going ice skating. And whoever gets Sam," he glanced back at Pepper from the doorway, "Make him pay. He punked my shower."

 **II.**

The rap of a knuckle on the doorframe was all the warning Loki had before the door swung open.

Stark was lucky that his reflexes were sharp. He barely caught back the knife in time. As it was, the blade hovered in front of the inventor's placid face.

"Not the first time that's happened to me today," Stark said. "If you'll believe it. May I?"

Exasperated, Loki flicked his hand and sent the knife clattering against the far wall, and from there, to the floor.

Stark watched appreciatively. "Nice," he said. "Thanks. I guess," he shrugged, sauntering into the room, "I mean, 'host's right' – or whatever – would dictate that you can't hurt me."

He picked up the digital clock on the low shelf that stood against the wall, looked it over, and set it back down, all without making eye contact. Establishing dominance.

Smoothing back his irritation, Loki decided it was a game two could play.

He sank languidly back into the chair behind him. "What do you want?" he asked.

"The rules say that you have to do whatever I say while you 'eat my salt' or some voodoo gibberish, right?"

Loki's felt his jaw tighten. To distance himself, he lifted the book from where he'd dropped it and began leafing through the pages to his old place. "The Ancient Laws of Hospitality," he said, "dictate that I make no hostile move on your person unless directly threatened by you. Little more."

Stark snorted. "Because that book's really so interesting. You're coming with me."

Loki looked up at him sharply, "Why?"

"My house, my rules. Up."

Stark had positioned himself directly in front of him and stood, with both hands in his pockets, waiting. Loki remembered through the chaos and dust of years how it had felt to take Stark's throat in his hand and cast him out of the window of this very tower. It was an action he had not – with all those years – come to regret.

"I know," the billionaire said shamelessly, " _a lot_ of Christmas carols."

Grinding his teeth, Loki shut the book.

"That's the spirit!" Stark turned on his heel.

"I would to the _Norns_ that this was not required of me."

"You're the one who convinced Big Brother to stay on," Stark said over his shoulder. " _Gotta_ love Ancient Laws. Oh," he drew up suddenly in the doorway and Loki almost ran into him. "You're ready too," he said to someone who stood without. "Good. One more stop and we'll be on my merry way."

Wanda Maximoff was leaning against the wall with her arms folded and her face dark. "Ready as I'll ever be," she muttered.

"Good. Yeah," Tony said, walking past her and half-turning to face him as he walked. "Got Thor to explain the minutia of them to me earlier. _Knew_ they'd come in handy."

Loki paused, scrutinizing the girl.

She met his eyes, and after one moment, she gave a bitter kind of smirk, and followed their host.

Wordlessly, Loki went after both.

 **III.**

"Truly, friend Steven," Thor was saying, "and I mean it as no offence, but you have the strangest produce on Midgard."

Steve turned his head and smiled. "Never seen a pineapple before?"

"No," Thor said, laying the fruit back in its place on the display, "No I have not. Asgard produces no such armored fruit."

Steve glanced up, looking over the people and the brightly-colored displays of fruit and vegetable. Thor had found what it was he intended to purchase, and Steve had had nothing to pick up. He wasn't sure where the others had vanished to, but the produce section was near the exit, so Steve was fairly confident in his ability to catch them on their way out. He and Thor were…killing time, so to speak.

"To tell you the truth," he said amiably, "There weren't many of them around in my day either."

Raising his head, Thor gave him a smile. Then his eyes fixed on a place behind Steve and he exclaimed, "By Odin's beard!" and shoved past him.

"Wait, Thor –"

Stumbling over his foot in his haste to follow after the god, Steve couldn't for the life of him figure what it was that had caught Thor's attention. He had run across the produce section to a display of wreaths that stood by the front entrance, and taken one up in his hands.

He looked at Steve in disbelief, "Sunwheels?"  
"I'm sorry," Steve said, shaking his head, catching him up, "What? Sunwheels? No. That's a wreath. What's a sunwheel?"

"Sunwheels!" Thor said again, with a grin. "You," he mimed the actions with his hands, " _light_ them on fire and then _roll_ them down the tallest hill you can find. When you can get some hundred-thousand people to do it all at once it is quite the spectacle. It is in celebration of the sun, you understand," he nodded encouragingly, turning selectively back to the display, "We shall have to get several so that we can experience this together. Earth has many hills, does it not?"

"Yes," Steve said, blinking, "No. Thor –"

Times like these he could almost justify why Loki was so testy.

"There are so many customs that we share in part," Thor was saying. "Did you know that your 'eight tiny reindeer' were in imitation of my father's steed? The stallion Sleipneir. The Eight-Legged. Did you know that?"

"No," Steve said, "No I didn't."

"It's odd that you people put ribbons on them," Thor said, scrutinizing the fourth wreath he'd lifted from the rack, "I can't imagine what their purpose might be. Some Midgardian peculiarity?"

"They're decorations, Thor," Steve interrupted him. "The wreaths are decorations."

Thor paused, and he looked at him. "Decorations?"

"Yeah…" Steve shook his head, "There's _no_ burning. None. People…"

Thor cocked his head like a curious puppy. "They're _not_ sunwheels?"

Steve had always had a soft spot for puppies.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "No. People…hang them on their doors. Just to look at. And I don't even know why. But there's no burning."

Thor looked at him wordlessly for one moment, then he began to laugh his great, booming laugh. He clapped Steve on the back and the force nearly knocked him down. Chuckling, Thor set the wreaths back on the display, and he ambled back into the produce section, leaving Steve with the unsettling feeling that he had no idea what had just happened.

 **IV.**

"I can't hear myself think through the chatter in this car."

Tony glanced in the rearview mirror at the two in his backseat.

Strange – who was sitting behind him – was looking out the window, tapping awkward rhythms on his knees. Loki stared straight ahead of him, his face a study in ambiguity, his body rigid.

Wanda sat in the passenger seat, with her elbow on the edge of the window and one fingernail balanced against her mouth.

No one had spoken for the better part of ten minutes.

"Anyone for hot chocolate?" he turned at the wheel to look in his backseat. He glanced at Wanda. He watched Strange tense from the corner of his eye as he continued for one beat longer to ignore the road. "No?" he asked glibly, "You sure? You know what? Stop arguing amongst yourselves."

He found a drive through without any difficulty, made a recklessly sharp turn into the drive through, took of his glasses to flash a smile at the girl who operated the window, and, handing the hot chocolates to Wanda, drove away.

"They're not," he glanced to his left at the way she was holding them, "going to explode."

She didn't laugh – at all – but she did pass one back to each of his prisoners in the backseat.

The car was filled with the smell of wafting chocolate.

"Trying to concentrate on the road here," Tony complained, "if you three could keep the chatter to a minimum…"

Giving up, he flicked on the radio.

Christmas music blared into the vehicle.

Wanda rested her forehead in one palm. "Stark…" she groaned.

Tony smirked. He turned the radio louder.

 **V.**

"You sure it was a good idea?" Clint asked, setting down the box Pepper had given him to carry, "sending the four of them out like that?"

"It's more peaceful here," Banner offered. Carefully, he unwrapped the tissue paper and laid an ornament delicately on the table. Glancing over his shoulder at Clint, he shrugged. "Maybe it's unlikely enough to work."

Pepper gave a wry laugh, "Maybe," she said. "Natasha, would you mind setting these on the table over there? The others will be back any minute –"

"Sure thing."

Clint heard static on the air. "Ms. Potts?" Friday's voice asked, "The others are back now."

From across the room Natasha met his eyes. "And so it begins," she said.

"Natasha," Pepper said. She vanished into the hallway. "Could you…" Clint lost the rest of the statement in a kind of distance-induced fuzz.

Tasha did not. "On it," she said.

She left the room.

"You know?" Clint leaned back against the wall. "I miss the good old days when Thor would get all confused when Jarvis would talk. Remember that?"

"Remember all the toasters he 'vanquished'?" Banner chuckled. He pushed up his glasses.

"Yup," Clint sighed, straightening himself from the wall. "Those were the good old days. I'm gonna go get the rest of those boxes before I get caught in the crossfire up here."

"I'm with you."

 **VI.**

Tony Stark.

Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.

Accompanying him, first, a 'Master of the Mystic Arts'. Because, why not. 'Magic' was not insulting to modern science and technology.

Second, the Old-World-Viking god of mischief who had single-handedly plotted to overthrow the earth and tried to destroy Tony as well as most-everyone or thing he cared about, just a few, short years ago.

And thirdly, lastly, and certainly not leastly, a young woman who was possibly the most frightening and gorgeous production of modern science, and who may or may not have still held Tony Stark responsible for the death of her family.

No pressure.

His favorite part, personally, was that he was in the middle of nowhere, trudging through knee-high drifts of snow, unaccompanied except for the three personages above mentioned.

He remembered _why_ he had thought of this – up to the moment where he had given up on the lots in the city and turned around in his seat to coerce Strange into opening the Ring of Fire to get their car into a place with halfway-decent pines. He just couldn't quite place his finger on what it was at the time that had made it seem like a workable solution.

He mused as he trudged, that these situations were why he needed Pepper. She was always there to talk him out of his…less seemly designs.

His own personal wizard seemed to be not- _un_ -enjoying himself. The personified Security-Blanket of Levitation carried him just an inch or two above the top of the drifts as he admired the woods.

Wanda was trailing a few feet behind them, carried on her evil-looking trails of magic.

Loki, of all people, was trudging through the snow beside him.

All traces of past hot chocolates long-forgotten, Tony shot a sideways glance at the former super-villain. "What's the matter, Elsa," Tony puffed. "Snow powers just not kickin' in like they used to?"

Loki eyed the tree line what seemed like miles away from them. "We are far from your home, Stark," he said.

"Woah, hey now," Tony objected. "Guest rules still apply. _I_ brought you out here, and you're _still_ going back to my house."

"More's the pity."

"Aw come on," Tony grinned. "You know you like it there." He looked away, out across the drifts, "Why else would you convince Thor to stay."

He pitched it like it wasn't a question, when in reality, the fact that Thor was still present when he'd gotten up in the morning had been a shock to him.

"Must be your charming personality," Strange guessed.

Loki, Tony noticed, did not say anything.

Tony smirked at him. "I won't tell Pepper if you won't," he said.

No one had anything to add to that, and the cold was steadily getting colder, to the point that Tony thought it might be best to concentrate on keeping warm.

There they were, he thought, traversing the Great Wilds of North America, in search of The Perfect Christmas Tree.

And the rest of the team was missing it all.

 **VII.**

The whistle on the air was all the warning Scott had before a wooden spoon smacked against the counter.

He caught back his hand, "Hey!" He rubbed it, even though he and Natasha both knew she hadn't hurt him.

"Hey yourself," she said coolly, glancing at him without really turning her head.

"It's not _my_ fault I don't know how else to help," he complained. "It's not like I have a lot of experience with these things."

She put one finger in the bowl. "As a single man," she put the finger into her mouth, eyeing him reproachfully, "you _have_ to have more experience than that."

"Kraft 'Mac-n-Cheese' is about it," he said. "Oh, and," he counted on his fingers, "toast, and breakfast cereal."

"You and Clint," she scoffed. She glanced at him. "For the record, 'Testing for Poison' doesn't count as helping, when I cook."

"I know," Scott rubbed the back of his hand ruefully, "if you wanted me dead I'd be dead. He told me."

Steve looked up from where he was working on the other side of the kitchen. "Hey Scott," he said, "You looking for work? Because I could use a hand with this."

"So long as you don't hit people with spoons,"

Steve shook his head seriously. "Can't say that I've made a habit of it yet."

 **VIII.**

The Christmas decorations were going up nicely, and cookies were being made.

Pepper felt that, all things considered, so far, the day was a success. Though she hesitated to make that claim until she found out whether Tony was coming back alive or not.

Walking out of the kitchen, she came upon Thor.

He was standing at a table that was a little too low for him, with various bottles and bowls stacked around him. His hair was tied at the back of his neck, and he was wearing an apron, but there was flour everywhere. He had smears of it on his face and in his hair, matted into his sweater. There was a dusting of it on the carpet under the table where he stood.

He'd made some sort of pale dough, and was pressing it thin with his hands, his face more pensive than she'd seen it in some time. He was so lost in thought that he did not seem to have noticed her approach, or the laughter coming from the next room.

Being careful to remain within his line of sight so as to startle him little as possible, Pepper came closer and she leaned one hip against the side of the table an unthreatening distance away.

"Now, tell me again, Thor," she said softly, watching his strong hands as he worked, "what this is."

His head shot up and he gave her a scattered smile. "Ms. Potts," he said. He cleared his throat, " _Laufabranth_ ," he smiled at her, "It's traditional. It was one of rare times that my brother or I were ever welcome in the kitchens, when mother would come down to make _laufabranth_ for Jol."

"Those must be special memories," she said.

"Yes," Thor shook his head, "though I knew it not at the time." He glanced at her. "They mean much to me now," he explained, "that they did not."

"That's how it is with all of us, I think," Pepper said. "We don't know what treasured memories we're making until they're over and done with."

Thor's smile had a bit more warmth than the last one had. "I wish," he said softly, "that my brother could see it as I do."

"You think he doesn't?"

Thor shook his head bitterly, "No. he gets no joy from this. He stays here only for me."

"Well I'd say that's pretty good proof that he remembers at least part of it." She gripped his massive arm. "Don't worry about it, Thor," she said. "He'll come around."

"I hope you're right."

But as he said it, he sighed.

"What else?" she asked.

"To speak truth, my concerns with Loki are only part of it. I miss Jane Foster. It has been, over-long, since last I saw her. I would speak with her again. I should like to share these Midgardian traditions with her. They bring her much to my mind."

"Have you," Pepper blinked, "tried calling her?"

"I haven't a phone."

"Oh," Pepper smiled her understanding. "You can borrow mine," she promised.

"May I?" he asked, his eyes glowing. Then, cautiously, "If you're sure it is not trouble,"

She nodded seriously. "I'm very sure, Thor. But show me again," she pointed at the butter knife he'd taken from the drawer.

"Oh, this?" he said. "It makes a poor rendition of the tool we use in Asgard, but it suffices. You shape the dough like this," deftly he moved his hands, shaping the dough and folding it with the knife, "And there," he showed her proudly. "You have a leaf."

 **IX.**

Snow, Tony decided, was not his friend. It was cold, deep, and it got darned wet after a while.

Wanda's accent floated behind him. "Didn't they invent Christmas tree lots so that people wouldn't have to do this?"

Tony smirked with one side of his mouth. He was pretty sure the other side was numb. "They invented them, Wanda," he said, "because people forgot how to have a fun, old fashioned family Christmas and are satisfied with scrawny old over-priced trees that have no special meaning."

Chuckling, Strange nodded his head. "You're quoting the movie."

"I am." Tony huffed. "Weren't you paying attention last night?"

"I'm afraid my mind wandered."

"Shocking," Loki said.

Tucking his hands under his arms, Tony ignored them, opting instead for the spirit of _Christmas Vacation_. "You think this is what our fore-fathers did?" he asked.

"It's not." Loki answered. "I can _personally_ assure you that they had better things to do than endanger their lives and wellbeing when their home was already a botanical garden."

"They walked into the woods," Tony recited fiercely, "They picked out that special tree and they cut it down with their bare hands."

"Stark?"

"Yes H-honey?"

Strange was hovering just above the surface of the snow to his left. "Are you sure you're all right?" he asked.

"Ah," Tony shrugged, "Th-that's all part of the experience."

Strange gave a soft, wry laugh.

Tony trudged a few feet farther.

"You know," he chattered, "Vision _likes_ trudging. He told me that the other day. Says he thinks it's d-dignified in the face of adv-versity. _God_ I'm sick of the color white."

If he didn't find something that spoke to him in the next five minutes, Tony decided, he was turning around and he was going home.

Just then, as if they really _were_ in a movie, there it was. The most perfect tree Tony had ever seen.

Looking at them proudly, Tony spread his hands, "Eureka. The Avengers Family Christmas Tree," he swerved from his path to make for the pine. "It's not _just_ full," he said, "it's b-big."

Tony stopped an appropriate distance away to admire the pine. Loki, Strange, and Wanda drew up beside him.

He looked to his left at Strange. "Something else, huh Ross?"  
Strange gave him a slight laugh. He shook his head, "It certainly is," he admitted.

Wanda lifted herself off of the ground, and she floated beyond to get a better look at the far side of the tree.

Tony looked at Loki, "Isn't it cute, Audrey?"  
Slowly, _slowly_ , Loki closed his eyes.

Grinning, Tony decided that this entire experience was worth _that_ look.

Taking two, snow-encumbered steps nearer the tree, Tony faced his audience and spread his arms. "Most enduring joys of the season are best enjoyed in the warm embrace of kith and kin," he recited. "And _this_ tree, is the symbol of the Avengers Family Christmas!"

Strange tipped his head a little to one side, a tolerant smile on his face. "Did you bring a saw?" he quoted.

Tony was about to say that, of course he had, but then the horrifying truth set in.

Strange frowned. "You didn't?"

Rolling his eyes, Loki folded his arms.

"Why didn't one of you tell me I didn't have a saw?"

"You don't have anything," Strange probed, "from the suit?"

"Do I _look_ like I have anything from the suit?" Tony snapped.

"I assumed you have one of your bracelets," Strange said reasonably.

"No," Tony said, "I didn't _have one of my bracelets_."

Strange shrugged. "I assumed –"

"And why would I have built in a _saw_?" Confused, Tony looked at Loki.

Eyes closed, Loki shrugged. "I haven't the faintest."

"Lasers," Strange explained.

"To take out a _tree_ I intent to put in my _Tower_?"

"Well," the cloak rippled and lifted Strange above the snow again. He rested his chin on a bent finger. "I supposed I could…" he snapped his fingers, conjuring a fire-colored thread that he stretched between hands and looped to double in width, then doubled again –

And Tony assumed he would have gone on doubling the pointless magical rope until the end of time except that the most terrifying sound in the world – or worlds, since, apparently, that was a plural – broke his concentration.

From the other side of the pine, Wanda screamed.

A red spray of sparks flew every direction and, with the reflexes of a mongoose, Strange threw out one hand behind him in a flair of white, then shot forward. His hand collided sharply with the middle of Tony's chest as Strange tackled him into the snow.

When Tony managed to blink the stars and snow out of his eyes, he found himself three-quarters buried in a drift, with Strange nearly on top of him, shaking snow out of his hair. Directly beyond their feet, were pine boughs.

"Tree," Tony said.

Strange shook his head. "Yeah," he agreed.

"This is," Tony took in their situation, "awkward."

"Yeah," Strange pushed himself to his feet, then extended a hand to Tony.

Tony took it. "Thanks," he said.

Beyond the shredded stump of the toppled pine, floated Wanda Maximoff, red swirling at her hands, her feet, and glowing in the depths of her eyes.

"Let's go," she said.

Throwing out one hand she cast a pulsating red rope.

Tony flinched.

The rope lashed around the trunk of the pine. With the other hand she worked a pattern too quick for Tony's eyes to follow.

He watched her, braced for anything that looked like an attack, totally uncertain of what it was that she was doing.

Under her hands, the red trails left on their air by her hand came together and spread. Effortlessly, she raised one hand and the tree floated. She threw the mesh she'd woven beneath it. Then, as casually as though she was only walking a small dog, she took the rope she'd cast to the trunk and, with the tree floating on its bed behind her, she began to re-trace their tracks across the Great Wild.

With the tree out of the way, Tony saw Loki, still sprawled in the snow, watching Wanda as she went with his jaw slack and his eyes about as big as Tony's felt.

"I," Tony said. "She," he pointed after the _floating tree_. "You guys can't…?"

Strange did not look away from the spectacle. "I can't," he said.

Loki just looked bewildered.

Strange offered Loki a hand and Loki seemed to remember where he was. "I'm fine," he snapped. Getting awkwardly to his feet, he brushed himself off.

"I'm sorry," Strange said. "It was clumsy, but there wasn't much time."

"All," Tony patted his shoulder, still dazed, "is forgiven. He'll," he waved carelessly at Loki, "He'll catch up with me. P-promise. Whew," he smeared some melting snow from his face. "That was s-something. Well," he shuddered, "I'm," he gestured lamely at the retreating tree, "with her," he stifled a grimace, "I g-guess."

 **X.**

Settling his glasses better on his nose, Bruce left the ornaments for one moment, and turned to watch Barton where he was crouched on the stairwell.

"Barton," he said, "I'm pretty sure there's a better way –"

"Nope," Clint interrupted him. "I've got this."

"Okay," Bruce raised his hands, palm out, "If you say so."

"I've always wanted to try this," Clint sighted in along the arrow shaft, "Laura would never let me."

Bruce smiled over his shoulder, "Can't imagine why."

" _No_ ," Pepper's voice startled both of them. "No no nonono. We are _not_ –" she snatched the bow out of Clint's hands, "We are, _not,_ putting it up like that," she said.

Vision had followed her in. He appraised the situation quickly. "If I may, Ms. Potts," he said.

Gratefully, she handed the ornament to him. "Thank you Vision," she said.

Holding the ornament in both his hands, Vision floated to the corner where Clint had been about to shoot it.

"Show off," Clint scoffed.

Laying aside the wrapping of another ornament, Bruce chuckled.

Pepper gave Barton the bow back with a long-suffering look on her face. "Put this away," she said.

"Yes ma'am."

"Thank you, Clint."

The click of her heels accompanied her as she led Vision into the next room.

"Hey," Barton collapsed the bow, "Anybody know what happened to Wilson?"

Bruce shook his head. "Haven't seen him."

 **XI.**

Strange flew ahead of them a little ways. He cast a portal on the air in front of Wanda that opened out, still into the Wild, but the Wild only a number of yards from the car.

If she saw it, she gave no sign. She walked through the portal with no change in the expression on her face.

Communicating no surprise at the brevity of her trip, she lashed her magical rope to the back of his car, then wordlessly climbed in to the passenger side, and closed the door.

Strange followed Tony and Loki through, then closed the portal behind them.

Tony and Strange looked at each other.

The three of them got into the car as quietly as possible, and Tony started the engine.

"Seatbelts," Wanda said.

More hurriedly than he probably had at any time in his life, Tony fumbled, and clipped his seatbelt. He heard Strange and Loki do the same in the backseat.

It was a quiet ride home.

The 'Avengers Family Christmas Tree' floated behind them.


	10. Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)

**I.**

"'Tis a fine tree, my friends!" Thor laughed as he rubbed the sap from his hands. The pine Stark and his brother had brought back was nothing short of majestic. It towered to the height of the high ceilinged room they had chosen for it and perfumed the air with its crisp smell. Stepping back to survey it better, Thor nodded his head. "You chose quite well."

Stark, Wanda and Strange had only just gone to fetch dry clothing. Pepper had been convinced to relinquish Barton as he had been the only one – apart from Steve – willing to aid them in their efforts at raising the mammoth pine. The archer rocked back on his heels. "Yeah," he scoffed. "Like Stark needs another tree. You got this?" he asked Loki.

Through the boughs that all-but obscured him, Thor saw his brother turn his head and raise one eyebrow. "I think I can manage."

"Fine." Rising to go, Barton shook his head, "I'll never be able to get the sap off of my hands," he chuckled, "Damn it, Stark."

Folding his arms, Thor recalled the startled joy evident in Jane's voice when he had spoken with her on Pepper's phone. "A fine tree indeed," he murmured distractedly. He couldn't suppress the smile that had hovered around his mouth ever since he'd spoken with her.

"Whatever it is," Loki startled him. He sighed, getting to his feet, "out with it. You've been humming ever since we got back."

Thor blinked. Then he nodded his head and faced his brother. "I've spoken with Jane."

"Oh?" Loki said. He tipped chin, getting a better look at the tree, "And?"

Thor had expected something more. Loki had never been fond of Jane, though the two had never rightly met, and Thor had at least anticipated eye-contact while they spoke. He cleared his throat. "She is well…" he said.

"That's lovely."

Thor wondered why talking to Loki had to be so difficult. He had asked his mother once. She'd laughed. "I've missed her greatly these months," he said. "As you know."

"Your point would be…"

"Well, I…asked her to come _here_ – the Lady Pepper said that I might – but she hasn't the means to come here."

Loki stepped back and gave one short nod. "Yes."

On quick assessment, Thor decided he didn't think Loki was referring to the tree. "What?"

"Yes." Loki said. He slanted a side-ways look at him. "You should go."

"Are," Thor stammered. It shouldn't have been so easy. "Are you sure? You would have to remain here. Dr. Selvig has never fully recovered –"

"I'll be fine."

Thor closed the space between them in two strides and, taking him by one shoulder, spun him so they stood face to gave a startled yelp. With an aggravated huff, he pushed Thor's hand off. "Would you _not_ do that? You _know_ I _hate_ it when you do that."

Thor put his hand back on Loki's shoulder, searching his eyes.

Loki sighed. "Whatever you're doing –"

Then Thor laughed. "You mean it."

Loki's eyelids dropped a fraction. "While I may be the Father of Lies," he folded his arms. "I _do_ get bored from time-to-time and decide to spice things up. _Yes_ I mean it."

Laughing delightedly, Thor crushed him in a hug. "Thank you, Brother," he said. "It means the world to me."

"Mm-hm." Loki squirmed away from him. He turned back to look critically at the tree. "How long does she want you?" he asked carelessly.

"To stay? Until Christmas if Stark will allow it."

"He won't." Then Loki laughed dryly. "See what you got us into? We're practically his thralls."

"Christmas Eve, then." Thor said, ignoring his accusation.

"When will you be leaving?"

"Not for a day or two. We thought I might stay the week before Christmas."

Loki nodded his head. He flicked a quick glance at Thor, "Enjoy yourself."

Thor put one hand on his shoulder.

"For pity's sake!" Loki whirled to face him before Thor could do it. "What _now_?"

Putting both hands on Loki's shoulders, Thor looked at him. "You're sure you'll be all right if I leave for so long?"

Relaxing, Loki smiled thinly. He brushed Thor's hand off his shoulder. "You're not so central to my happiness, Thor," he said. "I'm sure I'll find some way to carry on."

 **II.**

Coming back down from the rooms Tony had lent him, Stephen Strange noticed something in a niche in the wall that flashed. Curiosity peaked, he stepped nearer the shelf, and brushed the picture frames gently aside to see the thing that caught the light behind it.

It was a glass box. One of Stark's arc-reactors was inside it on a little pedestal, like some piece of exotic jewelry.

Inscribed on the rim of the reactor were the words

 _Proof that Tony Stark has a heart._

Strange replaced the box in its old place on the shelf. Fumbling a little, he removed his watch.

He'd never had it fixed. The face was still fractured, and he would always have to rely on another device to give him the time, but on its back was written

 _Time will tell my love for you._

 _-Christine_

He slipped the worn band back around his wrist and clipped it there as ably as he could.

It had, he thought, been too long since he'd seen her.

 **III.**

Tony was hunched on a bar stool with a blanket pulled tight around his shoulders and a hot chocolate steaming on the bar in front of him. Steve had made him the drink before he and Thor had gone to help position the enormous pine he'd hauled out of the woods.

Tony was sure he'd be touched by that and proud that his team had pulled together to make that excursion as successful as it had been when he stopped being _cold_.

Pepper came back. She ran a hand through his hair. "Any warmer?" she asked.

He humphed, "A little."

Taking the stool opposite him she settled her elbow on the counter. "Are we rescheduling for tonight?"

"Tonight?" he shifted in his blanket. "Oh. Right. Ice-skating. Is that even a question?"

"Well," she chuckled. "I didn't expect you to go if you were experiencing hypothermia, Tony."

"Who's experiencing hypothermia? I'm fine. Let me just –" he took a gulp of his hot chocolate, "That's _hot_." He coughed. " _That'll_ get circulation back to my toes."

Pepper laughed. She glanced down. "Tony,"

He set the mug on the bar. "I know that tone." He tugged up the blanket which had started to slip off of one shoulder. "For once, the weird music is not my fault. My money's on either Barton, or Wilson. By the way, have you _seen_ Wilson? I think he's avoiding me."

Pepper smiled tolerantly. "I was wondering," she said, "what you had planned for Christmas day."

"Hadn't thought about it."

She gave him a skeptical look.

"No, honestly, I didn't think we'd make it _this_ far, and – what is it – the _fifteenth_?"

"Well," Pepper traced one finger in the condensation on the bar. "Thor spoke with Jane Foster today –"

"Wait she," Tony sat up, "She didn't _stop by_ ,"

"No –"

"You mean Rapunzel actually _picked up a telephone_?" Tony interrupted her again, "This is landmark. Why didn't you tell me?"

Pepper took a long breath, "I'm _trying to_ –"

"And now you're getting upset. I'll stop. See? I _am_ learning things."

"Tony," she pursed her lips.

"Shutting up now."

Pepper sighed. "She wants Thor to come and spend Christmas with _her_."

Tony took a drink of his hot chocolate and put it down. "Okay."

"Okay?" she frowned. " _Okay_ as in, you understand?"

Tony looked at her. He tipped his head to one side, then he said, "Um…yes…?"

Pepper shook her head, "I thought we should ask you before we, finalized, any plans."

Tony chuckled, reaching for his drink. "It's like you're his mom."

"Well?"

Tony looked at her. Then he shifted. "I'm sorry, I think we got off on the wrong foot here. I already said yes. Is that –" he frowned, "did you _want_ me to say yes?"

Floored, Pepper floundered. "Yes – I – He'll be, thrilled. It's just that I…didn't expect that." She squinted at him, "Are you sure you're all right?"

Tony grimaced. "Okay, maybe three days _is_ enough, and maybe Wanda showed me the true meaning of personal respect, and _maybe_ , after today, I'm re-thinking my idyllic 'family Christmas' fantasies,"

"Was it really that bad?" Pepper smiled.

"We _bonded_ , Pepper. I think Loki even let go of whatever _thing_ was going on between him and Strange."

"That _is_ progress."

"Eh, 'tis the season. And – besides all that – can you _imagine_ the sad puppy eyes I'd get? Not my speed." He laughed. "You ever tried telling Thor no? Not a great plan. You see, Pepper," he looked at her, then stuck one hand out from under his blanket and took hers. "It's not altruism. I wanted _you_ here, and I wanted you happy. The rest is just…" he shrugged, "extra."

She smiled at him, "I'll be staying on for Christmas," she promised.

"That's a relief."

"But are you _sure_? Loki's not invited."

"Seems like a common theme."

" _Tony_ ,"

"What?" Tony looked at her. "We bonded. I can _say things_ now."

"Well," she patted his shoulder. "Just you be careful what you say. I don't need any super-powered brawls in my home."

Tony grimaced. "I can't promise…" then he sat up. "Do you smell smoke?"

Next moment, from the kitchen, they heard sounds of dismay.

"Friday?" Tony said, sitting up. "Override all sprinkler system settings. _Keep them off_."

"Sure thing, Boss."

Imagining the scenarios that had prompted the speed of his response, Pepper smiled and shook her head. From the kitchen, she heard laughter. Looking over Tony's shoulder she saw movement across the hallway and heard someone's voice shouting plans to go and see if Strange would do a re-set.

"It's like I work with children," Tony complained blandly.

Pepper patted his arm. "You'll get used to it," she promised.

 **IV.**

The sound died out behind and beneath him the farther he got away from it, and Loki felt the tension begin to drain out from between his shoulders.

Humans, he decided _again,_ were exhausting. He didn't know why he'd come.

Leaning one arm just barely against the wall, he breathed deeply into his lungs, and shut his eyes.

Then he heard something.

His eyes snapped open and he held very still. He'd thought the Avengers all in the lower portions of the tower, busy about their preparations. Either he was mistaken, or they were suffering some kind of invasion. Each option was distinctly plausible.

Removing himself from the wall, Loki moved silently, listening for any disturbance in the vicinity.

Then he heard a sound. This time, it was distinctly a laugh.

Frowning, he drew up short before a half-closed door.

Not an invasion, then, he thought. _No one_ could be that inept. Putting out one hand flat against the door, he pushed it back.

Sam Wilson was at a table in the back of the dim room with the light of a computer screen illuminating his face. He was shaking his head and laughing at something the screen had shown him.

Noticing the change in the light, Wilson glanced up. "Oh hey," he said. "Come on in, take a seat." He moved over to make room beside him.

Loki stopped. He frowned.

Wilson did not seem to notice. He was grinning at the screen, "This is great."

Disbelievingly, Loki shook his head. He gave a cough of a laugh, "I mean no offense," he said. "But I'm sure there are better things I might do with my time."

And he would have left then, if Wilson had not looked up, very dry. "You're killing me," he said. He folded his arms, pushing the screen out of the way so he could lean forward on the table. "Christmas got to be too much for me," he shrugged, stretching his arms and folding them behind his head. "So, I'm hiding out up here, where Stark hasn't thought yet to look for me."

"It would be easy," Loki said. Before he'd thought better of it he stepped into the room proper, and stood at the other side of the table. "'Friday' can locate any one of us at a moment's notice."

"If he forgot me that'd be even better," Wilson said. Laughing, he pushed himself straighter on the chair and shook his head. "Come on, Man. Are _you_ enjoying yourself? Because, _I_ think – and I _could be wrong_ , so correct me if I am – but _I_ think that you're sick of it too, and you just want to be left alone for a little while to relax, right? Why else would you be sneaking around up here. So why don't you sit here and we can relax together. I've been up here, _all day_ , and I have found some real gems."

Loki did not want to admit that Wilson was right. But he was so far from inhabited areas of the tower that he was low on excuses. Wilson was a shrewd man.

"Come on, Man," Wilson said, "you don't have to admit I'm right. Just sit down."

Finally, deciding that none of his other options appealed to him _more_ , Loki sighed.

"That's the way," Wilson said.

The screen did not show anything that Loki had expected to see. "What is _that_?" he asked.

"Oh, Man, you've never seen this before?" Wilson exclaimed. "It's called _Llamas with Hats_. It's genius. Here, you've gotta start at the beginning…"

 **V.**

"In my defense," Tony said, "I haven't been skating since I was…twelve. And a half. Went with my nanny – as psychologically damaging as that was."

Holding onto his arm, more for his sake than hers, Pepper laughed at him.

"So," he said. His breath steamed in the light from the streetlamps that illuminated the rink. "The votes are in. Turns out that the only one of us who beats you on the ice in dexterity and grace, is Barton. _Does_ that bother you?"

Ahead of them, Barton was skating backward, lacing carelessly around the others on the rink with his hands in his pockets.

"Who even _wears_ sunglasses at night?" Tony scoffed, " _Besides_ Corey Hart…"

Natasha had stayed home to work on some kind of Russian cookie, the name of which Tony couldn't even pronounce. Weirdly enough, Lang could.

"Also," Tony told her, "In the realm of weirdness, who could have predicted that Loki _can't skate_?"

"Be nice, Tony," Pepper chided. "You're _currently_ hanging on your girlfriend's arm."

"I wouldn't say _hangin-_ Yup. Okay, you win. Hanging. And Thor can't skate either, see? Look at that. I can see the headlines now, 'God of Thunder, a hot mess on ice'."

Pepper chuckled.

"It sounds like a musical. But Loki's more entertaining. Was that Norwegian he was swearing in a few minutes back there? Did _you_ think that was Norwegian?"

"I wouldn't know," she said.

"I think, the _only_ reason he came out on the ice at all was because Wanda won't and Strange is the only one wall-flowering with her."

"Mm," Pepper tipped her head to one side, "I think it was Thor. You saw how he was dragging him."

"Yeah, like a sled dog. It was impressive. And then the snowbank. Trust Thor to have a death grip."

"I feel bad for him."

"For…Loki?"

Eyeing Tony, she chuckled. "You don't?"

"No. Best part of my night. This wouldn't be a problem if he paid more attention to his brother. Thor's like this big, overgrown puppy, looking for affection in all the wrong places. They're a riot. But I gotta say, I prefer Loki, in _this_ particular case."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, you see, Thor's antics are more…legally damaging. Do you think _I'd_ be considered legally culpable if he broke any…one? thing? What are we talking here?"

She pressed against his arm. "I think we're fine, Tony." She smiled. "This was a good idea."

Pleased with himself, Tony smirked.

"See," Tony scuffed his skate on the ice. He righted himself with an undignified yelp. "Thank you, Sweetheart. At least _Thor_ , seems to be having a good time. Come on, Ice Man," Tony quipped, dragging Pepper behind him as he glided up next to Loki. "Really? This is the best you got? You can't even…" he waggled his fingers.

"That's not how magic _works_ , Stark."

"How's the wrist?" Tony jerked his chin at him.

Loki smirked. "It's fine." Flinging out one arm for balance, Loki righted himself.

"Didn't hurt it at all, did you."

Loki's face did not change. "I heal quickly."

Tony _uh-huhed_ skeptically. "I'd watch it if I were you, he's on the lookout again."

Loki snapped his head up so quickly that he almost fell down again.

Tony tsk-tsked. "Scoundrel."

"Tony," Pepper chided.

Loki scowled.

"No seriously," Tony pointed. "He's right over there. Look, just this once, I'll cover for you. C'mon Pep."

Without waiting for any kind of answer, Tony pivoted his skate, and Pepper helped him across the ice toward where the thunder god was flailing.

" _Lord_ they had to be fun as teenagers," he said. "Do…gods even get teens?"

"Well," Pepper frowned, "I suppose they'd have to. They start as babies, just like we do."

"Hm. Learn something new."

Laughing, Pepper leaned against his arm.

Tony marveled at her. "Well," he said, mostly to himself, "How about that?"

He felt like the luckiest guy in the world.

 **VI.**

Stephen Strange sat at a desk in an abandoned room of Avengers Tower, two floors above all the noise below.

On the screen in front of him, Christine was smiling. "So," her cheek dimpled, "How are things in the Cult?"

"It's as well as it can be," he said, simply.

"Oh," her image blurred as she shifted, "so you're admitting it's a cult now?"

Smiling, he shrugged. "It's hard to argue with a beautiful woman."

She looked at him side-long, and she scoffed. "You're not at the Sanctum," she noticed. "Where are you?"

"I was invited to Avengers Tower."

Her eyebrows rose, "You're talking to Stark again? I didn't remember that going over so well before."

He waved one hand, "Water under the bridge."

"Really. What's he got you working on now?"

He shrugged. "Some sort of Christmas party."

"Hm," she moved, peering behind him. "Quiet for a party."

"Quiet for someone who said they couldn't go out to dinner tonight," he countered.

"Hey," she laughed. "Not fair! It doesn't slow down in the ER….Not that it's much different for you…" Then she smirked, "and your Cult."

Strange sighed. "You're never gonna let that go, are you?"

"No, I'm not. So, how good's this party if you're hiding out up here talking to me?"

"You're much more interesting."

"Mm, deflection _and_ flattery. Interesting tactic."

"You don't know Stark."

"That bad, huh?"

"Well, after three days –"

" _Three days_?"

"Well, I _did_ …imply that it was an…unusual party."

"Yeah, thank God. I don't think I could handle that. And you _agreed_ to this?"

"For a while," he shrugged. "I'm free to go, Christine. We're not prisoners."

She laughed. "So how is it, spending all that _enclosed_ time with the Avengers? Jealous?"

"Who?" Strange gave a scornful laugh, "me?"

"They get _significantly_ more press coverage."

"Suits me fine."

"This cult really _has_ changed you," she said.

"For the better?"

She pursed her lips. "We'll see. Hey," she shifted on her elbows in the screen. "Maybe I can make some time next week and we can get dinner."

"You'd make time for me?" he said incredulously, "In your _busy_ schedule? At Christmas?"

"Aaand _maybe_ I'll re-think that…"

"Or maybe I'll stop time," he said. "I'll make the whole world _stop_."

"Well, then I suppose I'll _have_ to go through with it then," she allowed. " _I_ don't want to be the one to blame when you 'disrupt the laws of nature'. We don't need a 'Time Paradox' on our hands."

"You know, I _really_ think it's not _half_ as serious as Wong made it out to be."

She grimaced. "Rather not test that for a date, Stephen."

"It's a date, then?"

"You made me say it," she sighed. Then she smiled. "Go back to your 'party', I have to get some sleep before my shift."

"I'll call you."

"Good night, Stephen."

 **VII.**

"Mm, thanks," Pepper smiled gratefully as she took the steaming cup out of Tony's hand. "What are they watching in there?"

"Dunno." Tony took the stool across form her. "Was hearing _Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)_ , so maybe _Christmas with the Kranks_? It's a classic."

Smiling, Pepper shook her head and savored her hot chocolate.

"Impressed with my cinematic expertise?" Tony asked, with a little smirk, "Betcha even Strange wouldn't know that one. Wasn't _groundbreaking_ enough for him."

"Where has this guy been all these years?"

"In gestation," he shrugged.

"I had _no idea_ you cared this much about Christmas."

"Like a pupa."

"And _that_ ," she set her mug back on the counter with a grimace, "That's disgusting."

"No it's not. It's Science."

Pursing her lips, Pepper held up one hand, "Tony,"

"My legs hurt." He kicked one foot.

Pepper heard laughter from the next room. "Whatever they picked," she said, grateful for the change of topic, "sounds like they're enjoying it."

"Sounds like."

Pepper heard someone coming and she turned in time to greet Rhodey as he entered.

Tony stood up. "Look who decided to drop by!"

Pepper frowned, "Rhodey, what is it? What's wrong?"

"Whose idea was it," he asked, pointing back the way he'd come, "to show the former god of mischief _Gremlins_?"

Pepper sat up.

Tony choked on his drink.

 **VIII.**

As Tony was to discover later on, it was Wilson's idea.

To be fair, it was his own fault for leaving management to the masses.

The narrative, as he heard it later, was that Barton wanted to watch something "good for a change", since he was going to be heading home in the morning.

Discussion had been opened, and Wilson had floated the idea.

Lang had seen it in his youth, and he seconded the opinion. He said later that he'd forgotten how entertaining it was. He said he'd have to show it to his kid. Said he thought "she'd love it".

(What twisted seven-year-old girl likes _Gremlins_?)

So, the triumvirate had spoken. And so it had been done.

Amongst the others of the team, they had either not known better, or not cared. Banner had been the one voice of reason among the teammates present. And, as usual, he had been entirely cowed by the others. His excuse was that he "didn't like conflict".

Tony, Pepper, Rhodey and Banner posted themselves by unspoken consent at strategic points around the room for the duration of the film.

Thor didn't understand the movie. He kept asking if the "small green goblins" were real, and why the others hadn't told him of them sooner. It was priceless when he just looked up and asked if they should arm themselves in case of "like attack".

Steve was horrified. It was the crowning glory of Tony's evening. He laughed a few times and when Tony said something later he protested that it was "not what he'd been expecting."

And _no one_ – barring Wilson (thought Tony didn't understand how) and (possibly) Thor – had ever heard Loki laugh so hard.

Tony had thought he would have to have a stern talking-to with Wilson and Barton (since when had _he_ become the father-figure?) or _possibly_ get Fury to do it for him, because they might listen to Fury. But he was quickly reminded that karma could take care of itself. Or – perhaps more accurately – that Loki could take care of karma.

After a toilet exploded, green and bubbling, under Barton, the archer swore vengeance. Moments later, a gremlin clutching a shard of glass tumbled out of a cupboard toward an unsuspecting Wilson. It dissolved harmlessly in a puff of green vapor as it touched him, but that did not take back the unearthly shriek that had brought the rest of the team running.

Tony thought it was pretty funny, until three more toilets exploded. That, he decided, was a tad excessive.

Rhodey told him to handle it, then left. He _said_ he had work in the morning. Tony didn't buy it.

It was only a matter of time before everyone was involved in one way or another.

There were trick arrows, trip wires, commandoes rigging one another's rooms – John McClain-ing it themselves through the air ducts or paying off Scott to do it for them. There were alliances and betrayals. There were rings of fire appearing in innocuous places and hands reaching through to abduct other people's belongings. There were disembodied hands making the attempt once too often and being set aflame by an all-too innocently maneuvered candle.

Long story short, nobody slept that night, _besides_ Thor. Apparently he'd gained his prestigious title as 'god of thunder' due to his peerless capacity to snore.

Banner retreated to the basement. Tony let him have one of the cars he'd stored in his 'office'. Tony sat at one of his desks. Vision sat in a chair on the far side of the room with a magazine open in his hand. Tony didn't ask. After a while, Pepper gave up on her bedroom. She brought down a blanket and fell asleep curled up in the one soft chair he'd happened to leave downstairs. Tony promised her he'd take care of _everything_ in the morning.

Until then, he sat in the spin-y chair by his desk and tapped the back-end of a pen against his mouth and stared at the far wall.

It surprised him, marginally, when he woke up. He swore his neck would never forgive him. Groaning as he rubbed the back of it, he saw that Pepper was still asleep. Banner was a silent lump in the back of his Acura NSX. Vison was nowhere to be seen. Pepper's face was placid. Loose hair slipped free from its tie and slid across her eyes and mouth. She looked so beautiful. Tony didn't want to wake her. He went upstairs for some coffee. Black.

To his, _immense_ , surprise, all the floors he saw were immaculately clean. They were eerily quiet.

Thor, who was the only other person awake, was his usual chipper self. He met Tony at the counter.

Smiling broadly in greeting, Thor opened the cupboard for a mug. The gremlin that fell out didn't seem to register too high on his alarm scale, which was nice to know.

"So," Thor sipped his coffee and rested his huge arms on the bar. "What are we doing today?"

Tony glared at him.


	11. Holly Jolly Christmas

**I.**

Morning did not bring an end to the insanity that had gripped the Tower.

Tony volunteered to chauffeur Barton and Wanda to the airport. He didn't even feel bad about it, since Pepper had taken Natasha to the store to pick up some weird ingredients, and Banner was holed up in Tony's Acura NSX in the basement.

If Steve Rogers couldn't keep order, then Tony was washing his hands of humanity, and that's the way it was.

Tony dawdled around the airport about an hour longer than he needed to. It would have been longer, but people kept trying to hand him things.

 **II.**

Natasha hummed softly to herself as she finished putting the last few ingredients in the refrigerator. She heard something crash a floor below her, and one corner of her mouth twitched towards a laugh.

She had assured Pepper, while they were out, that everything was wearing down.

And it was. What remained of the game were only scuffles between the less responsible of the guys. Wilson, Lang, Loki, Strange. Thor had gotten bored early on and dropped out. Vision had not seen the point. He and Wanda – who had been distinctly disinterested in the game – had gone out onto the roof to talk. Bruce had retreated to the basement.

Steve – though – had impressed her. He'd kept up well into the small-hours, though he and she had both refused to carry over their ends of the game into the morning. Clint had orchestrated the majority of it, egging everyone else on, and without his encouragement, Natasha was certain the pranks would fizzle out all by themselves.

Someone was coming. She straightened, rubbing the palms of her hands on her pants. The steps were light, she thought. Not Thor and probably not Steve. Too obvious for Loki or Wanda – if she'd been there – neither of them knew how to turn stealth _off_. Vision made no preamble of his coming, and besides, he'd gone back to the base. Too fast for Bruce unless there was a problem and if there was she would have known it. Too fast, also, for Tony – or for Strange for that matter. Neither enjoyed running, and both had alternate means.

Wilson rounded the corner just as she had narrowed her guess down to either himself or Lang. He, though, had not expected _her_. Recoiling a little, he nearly tripped on his own heel.

"Sam," she smiled. It was unlike Wilson to be so startled. "You all right?"

Putting one hand on the countertop next to him, he laughed. " _I'm_ fine. Shit," he said, "you get around _fast_ ,"

She'd only just gotten in. Calculating quickly, she gave him a smirk. "You don't work with SHIELD as long as I did and not learn a few tricks."

"No kidding,"

"Still going strong, huh?"

"You would know. Hey, any chance you've seen a paper clip?"

She frowned. "A paper clip?"

"Lang." Wilson explained.

Natasha tipped her head to one side and her brows furrowed. "A science project or a rescue?"

Wilson chuckled. "Better question than you'd think. Damn, have we got a weird line of work. We've discovered that middle-school level science spooks Loki." He frowned, "You mind explaining what was so important that you came down three floors so fast?"

Natasha smiled. "I had to check on something," she said simply. Walking around him, she said. "Have you seen Bruce?"

"One floor up."

"Thanks. They're in the second drawer under the microwave. Next to the Scotch tape."

Natasha found Bruce easily with Sam's directives. He was sitting, hunched over a table with two spiral-bound notebooks and a stack of texts open in front of him. He seemed fairly absorbed. She tapped her knuckles against the doorframe in passing. She kicked the leg of a table that stood against the wall and went to flick back the screen and look out of the window. She didn't like to startle him.

Taking a long breath, Bruce straightened. "Oh," he said. "Hi. How long have you…?"

"I just got in."

He removed his glasses and kneaded his eyes with one hand. "So…what have _you_ been up to?"

"Pepper and I went out for ingredients," she said, bracing the heels of her palms against the windowsill. "I'm making eggnog."

"That's nice."

"Bruce," she said, "If Wilson just told me I move fast, would you have any idea what he's talking about?"

He looked at her. "Weren't you out with Pepper?"

"Yes," she said. "But would you?"

"No." Laughing wryly, he shook his head. "This place is a mad house."

She folded her arms. "It's quite the prank war."

"You think Stark's regretting this yet?"

She smiled. "Most assuredly."

Stooping to plant a quick kiss on the side of his forehead, she left him there, and went up several flights in the elevator to the floor Tony had christened 'Little Asgard'.

Knowing that Thor was several floors below, sparring with Rogers, Natasha rapped on the door with the back of her knuckles.

"It's unlocked," he said from within.

Startled, but not _truly_ surprised, Natasha turned the knob.

Loki was sitting in a low armchair, with a slim book open in his hands and his feet on the coffee table that stood in the middle of the room. He glanced at her, "Ah, Agent Romanoff," he said. "This is a surprise." He put a finger to mark his page and gave her his full attention.

She wasn't buying it. She folded her arms. "You used my likeness without authorization."

He laughed, but just a beat too slowly, putting his feet on the ground as he sat up, "I have no idea what you could –"

"Don't play that with me," she bluffed. "Banner told me everything. But," she said, watching how his expression faded to something nearer a scowl, " _Wislon_ , doesn't know. _Yet_."

Giving an aggravated sigh he fell back in the chair. "What do you want, Romanoff?"

Her chin tipped just higher. "To be determined," she said. "But if you want your secret kept you're gonna owe me. Big Time."

He looked at her sharply, calculating. Then he shifted forward again, folding his hands. "Might I remind you," he asked lowly, "of all that I know of your past?"

She looked at him. Her heart fluttered, but she would show him none of that. She kept her face a careful blank.

"Not all of your teammates are aware of all that you have been," he purred. "Would you have that altered?"  
"It's all on the internet. Maybe you missed that?" she drew one step closer. "When I gave up all SHIELD's files? Yeah. It's all there if they want it. I have nothing to hide." She turned on her heel. "But if you're not interested –"

"I didn't –" he stopped her.

Swallowing a grin, she turned slowly back.

He was powerfully unhappy as he looked at her. "I didn't say that."

"Well," she folded her arms. "Then what _do_ you say."

"Your agreement is…" he wouldn't look at her, "acceptable to me."

"Excellent," she said. "Thank you for your cooperation."

As she turned to go he said. "Watch your back, Romanoff."

She gave him a half-glance over her shoulder. "I have a Hulk for that."

 **III.**

When Steve ventured out into the hall, freshly showered and dressed, he heard shouting.

Frowning, he broke into a run and jogged down to the level the sound was coming from. Wilson was partially blocking the doorway. Steve came up behind him. Strange, Natasha, Loki, and Lang were sitting in various places around the room. Lang looked like he'd literally been dropped. Tony was shouting at them.

"What's the commotion?" Steve whispered.

Peering past Sam, Steve saw that Pepper was seated on a low, open-backed chair behind Tony, while Banner applied some sort of ice-pack to her side.

"Where've you been?" Wilson asked.

"Running."

"Oh, of course you'd take it on _now_ ," he chuckled.

A heavy step alerted him of Thor's arrival in the hall behind him.

"What'd I miss?" Steve asked.

Concerned, Thor only frowned.

"One of Loki's pranks went too far."

Thor nodded his head. "It would not be the first time," he whispered.

"Pepper?" Steve said grimly.

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "One of his gremlins fell out of a cupboard and startled her. She fell off a stepladder." He eyed Stark. "He's _not_ happy."

"I'd noticed that." Steve said.

It took some ten minutes but Stark finally talked himself out. He excused himself, pushing past the three of them in the doorway. "Admission too steep?" he demanded as he shoved past them.

The quiet settled tensely over them all as they tried to go back, awkwardly, to whatever it was they had been doing before Tony had lost his temper. Steve wandered into the room with Wilson and Thor.

Banner was murmuring inaudibly to Pepper as she assured him that she was fine and thanked him.

Seeing a book abandoned on the windowsill, Steve leafed through it. It was one of Banner's books. Glazing over the pages, Steve felt completely out of his depth.

A soft step caught his attention. Half-turning and not raising his eyes from the book, Steve glanced behind him.

"Ms. Potts," Carefully, Loki got down on one knee to be on level with her.

Pepper drew a little back and from his place some seven yards away, Steve watched.

Wilson came up next to him with his elbow resting on his folded arm and his hand in front of his mouth. "What's he doing?"

"I think," Steve said, turning one page, "That he's apologizing."

" _Loki_?" Sam hissed. He shot a furtive glance behind him at the two of them.

"Don't scare him off," Steve said dryly. "I don't think this is something he does very often."

"Yeah, no kidding. Do you think he's _serious_?"

Steve flicked a glance at them, "Appears to be."

"Yeah, well," Sam breathed scornfully, "If anybody could do it..."

"I've had a lot of time to study people," Steve said. "And I'm pretty sure I know contrition when I see it."

"…it would alleviate the swelling," Loki was explaining.

"No," Pepper said, a touch too quickly, because Loki drew back. Pepper smiled apologetically. "It's not…" she sighed. "Have you heard anything about Extremis? It was a kind of…advanced tech or – magic – forced on me against my will not that long ago and I'd really rather not –"

"Would you explain it to me?"

Pepper blinked, startled. "Uh-okay. Yes, I can. It's…"

"And you're telling me," Sam whispered, "That you're not worried about this, _at all_."

"I think it's nice to see the two of them talking like this. If you haven't noticed," Steve looked at Sam, "he's not exactly comfortable with most of us."

"Yeah. Been workin on that."

Steve glanced over at where Pepper was still explaining Extremis. Loki was watching her very intently.

"He's a good listener." Steve commented.

"It'd be less creepy if he talked."

He gave a soft smile. "That's probably true."

Loki began to explain to her, in soft undertones, how his magic differed from Killian's science. Steve only caught fragments of what he said, and of what little he caught, less made sense to him, but Pepper seemed to follow some of it. Steve heard her voice rise in a question and Loki answered, saying, "Nothing. There are those who possess the ability to augment in their healing, but my skills as a healer are minimal at best – only those my mother insisted I have. My interests lay in other areas."

At mention of his mother, Steve saw Pepper smile. "Illusions?" she asked.

He smiled a little tightly, "They were always my strength. I liked to make Thor…jump."

She smiled. "All right," she said. She brushed her hair to one side and turned in her seat, offering Loki her injured side. "I trust you."

For one moment, Loki's face looked like he'd been doused with cold water. But in the next, the look was gone, leaving his face as unreadable as ever.

Steve smiled behind his book.

Loki adjusted himself, pursing his mouth. "Hold still," he said.

He held his palm just over the curve of her side. He didn't touch her. There was no glow. There was no sound. There was nothing to indicate that he'd done anything.

Pepper turned, "How did you –"

"Better?" he asked. He drew his hand away.

"Yes," she tucked her hair behind her ears, "Yes, it feels fine. How did –"

"What –" Tony demanded, drink in hand, "What did he do?"

Pepper leapt to her feet, holding out one hand to stop him. "Tony, he brought down the bruising, nothing more. I don't feel it at all." She got closer to him, "He healed me, Tony."

Stark was staring over her shoulder at Loki, who was standing, tense and blank behind her. Not for a moment did Tony break eye contact with him. "Pretty decent of him."

Letting out a sigh through his nose, Steve set Bruce's book back on the windowsill where he'd found it. He went deliberately across the room, brought Monopoly out from the shelf where they'd left it and put the box on the table.

"What's he doing?" Tony asked.

Without turning his head, Steve could tell Tony was still staring Loki down.

And Loki had done some terrible things in his time, but he was trying to do the right thing, and wasn't that what counted? He'd been trying to right the wrong he'd accidentally done Pepper, and it wasn't right that Tony should punish him for it.

Steve opened the box. "I'm setting up a game," he said.

"Not Monopoly," Tony said, "Again."

"Give him a break, Stark," Wilson drawled. "It's the only game old enough that he remembers it."

Ripples of laughter broke the tension.

"That's not _quite_ true," Steve complained. "Chess _is_ older."

"We have a chess set," Pepper said.

Tony snorted. "We have – like – six chess sets. Take your pick. Why? Aren't we –"

"No," Pepper said. "We're playing chess. Come with me. Help me find the boards. Come on."

As soon as Pepper had dragged Tony out of the room, Steve glanced at Loki. He'd slunk to the opposite side of the room and appeared to be studying some book he'd either found or magicked to himself. Shruggingly, Steve assumed he wanted some space and decided that it was probably for the best.

Faster than Steve had thought possible, Pepper came back, pulling a protesting Tony behind her. She carried two sets.

"Tony never plays with me," she said. "And we rarely have guests,"

"What do you mean we rarely have guests?"

She looked at him, "Oh, so now you want to play chess with –"

"No. You know what. Never mind. Forget I said anything. Chess is worse than Monopoly. I'm with Cap."

Thor took no more than one look at the chessboard before slinging his legs over the back of the couch he'd been lying on and climbing over to demand of Pepper, "Is this _Hnefatafl_?"

"Is it…" she shook her head, "I'm sorry…Thor?"

"Loki," Thor turned, beckoning his brother.

Loki rolled his eyes. Then he shut the book and came over.

"Well?" Thor demanded, his eyes flashing excitement.

"No, Thor," Loki said. He eyed his brother suspiciously and moved to be opposite the table from him, where – Steve noticed with no little sympathy _or_ amusement – he was out of Thor's reach. "It's like, but not the same."

"How?"

Loki sighed. "In _Hnefatafl_ one moves these pieces –" he paused and glanced at Pepper for approval, "if I may?"

"Of course."

"- _So_ ," he demonstrated with a rook.

Resting his chin on one fist, Steve set aside his duties as Monopoly banker to watch.

"…and _so_. In Chess," Loki looked up to be sure he'd not lost his audience, "one moves them _so_. Also, if you'll notice, these two change places, though they move in the same manner."

Thor looked at him sternly. "Those are the only alterations?"

Loki looked at him for one moment, his face very blank, then said. "No. These," he bent and indicated a pawn, "move straight save for attack. They may only take a piece at a diagonal to their own place on the board."

"That's _all_?"

Loki's eyebrows furrowed. "It's more difficult to adjust to than you realize, Brother."

Steve chuckled.

Thor's chin jerked up. "I challenge you to a game."

Loki sighed. "Fine."

"That's one board," Pepper said. She scanned over the faces.

"I'll play," Natasha said.

"Why do _I_ have to play Monopoly if you don't?" Tony complained.

"Don't be silly," Pepper answered him. "You already have six."

Steve watched as Tony looked over their group. Strange, Banner and Wilson were double-counting the money he'd laid at their places. "We have room," Tony said.

"Not when Scott comes back."

"Ah-hem," Tony held one hand, palm-up, for all to see. "Let me re-phrase that. We _made_ room."

Pepper squinted, "Is that…?"

"Lang," Tony said, "will be playing as himself."

Steve watched in surprise that was quickly fading to resignation as the tiny figure on Stark's palm waved.

Tony lowered his hand and Scott hopped off onto the board.

"Are you sure this is safe?" Steve asked.

There was a squeak, then the fuzzy sound of a speaker kicking in. "It'll be fine, Captain America!" Scott shouted. "I always wanted to try this! Hank never let me!"

"Maybe there was a reason…" Banner muttered.

"Spoilsport," Tony coughed.

Banner looked like he wanted to say something, then thought better of it.

"What could be the harm?" Wilson asked. "Let Tic-Tac give it a shot."

" _See_?" Tony demanded. "Come on Pepper, you _have_ to play with me."

"You play for me and I'll take my place when we're done."

"Awesome!" Scott pumped one tiny fist. "Let's go!" he said. He rubbed his hands together. "I always wanted to be on a game board!"

 **IV.**

Loki, Steve thought from his place at the table, was remarkably patient.

"Why ever _not_?" Thor was sulking.

"If this," Loki answered, "is _Chess_ , then that piece cannot move to that place."

He'd worked alongside Thor for centuries, Steve considered. Maybe that shared experience helped Pepper to trust him.

"But I thought –"

"I _told you_ ," Loki said, just a bit of an edge to his voice, "there were discrepancies."

Thor sighed. "I thought it would be easier than this."

Steve turned in time to watch Loki close his eyes. "Don't we all."

Steve couldn't quite catch back the laugh. He disguised it as a cough, but the look on Loki's face said he wasn't fooled at all. Nor, surprisingly, was he offended.

Tony's voice interrupted him. "Your turn, Cap."

 **V.**

Pepper came to sit beside Tony.

"You're done already?" Tony asked.

"She's good." Pepper said, studying the board. "What've we got?"

"I bought you Boardwalk."

Banner pushed out his chair. "I need a break. Do you mind…?"  
"Not at all," Strange said.

"You're in good hands," Wilson cut in.

"Strange ones…" Tony smirked.

Pepper swatted him.

Strange shifted Banner's cards on the table. "A stark truth," he murmured.

Tony laughed and held up one hand. "Beard Bros," he said.

"No," Strange said, laughter lurking behind his mouth. "We're not doing that."

 **VI.**

"Scott," Tony said. "Don't you dare."

"I've been in jail for _three turns_!"

"Funny," Tony flicked him a spare look. "Woulda thought you'd felt right at home."

"Oh, _ha ha_."

"And, _I_ thought, you _wanted_ to be on a board game." Tony said.

"There aren't even any walls," Scott protested. "I could just…"

"Don't you dare."

"I'm _bored_!"

"Well look at that," Tony said coolly. "You're in a _bored_ game. It's your turn again. Want me to roll for you?"

"I want Captain America to do it." Scott sulked. "Last time you dropped the dice on me."

"I _said_ it was an accident."

"Yeah," Scott huffed. "Sure. Heard that one before. Hank always told me you can never trust a Stark."

"He worked with my dad?" Tony passed the dice to Steve.

"Yes."

"Figures."

At the table behind them, Loki choked.

Thor raised his head from where he had been studying the board. "Did you say something, Brother?"

Loki re-positioned himself. "I did not."

From the side of the table where he was playing Natasha, Banner glanced at Loki, then met Tony's look. He shrugged.

Tony decided to chalk 'making a sociopathic godling laugh at daddy jokes' up as a win.

 **VII.**

For all his protesting the game's rules, Thor was a remarkably good looser.

Banner too.

Natasha leaned forward on the table to get his eyes. "The king's the one you're supposed to protect," she said.

He gave her a half-way smile, "He's not the one I care about."

Blushing under his scrutiny, Natasha looked away. Then she put both hands palm-down on the table. "I'm gonna go get some cookies. Thor, you wanna help me?"

"As you wish, Lady Romanoff."

 **VIII.**

"Not another walkabout."

"My legs get _tired_ just sitting here!"

"Scott," Tony said. "That's cheating."

"I'm scared of Boardwalk."

"Good well, so's everyone else."

"But I could just –"

"You know what?" Tony said. "No." he dropped an empty shot glass overtop of Lang.

"Tony!" Pepper chided.

"What? He'll be fine. See? He's fine."

 **IX.**

"Banner," Loki said tightly. His fingertips pressed against his temples. "Are you _trying_ to move yourself into check?"  
Banner said no. But his eyes said yes.

 **X.**

"Tony, get the glass off him."

"He's fine!" Tony protested.

Pepper frowned at him skeptically. Scott had given up beating the edges of his glass prison and was sitting cross-legged and dejected with his chin propped in his fists.

"He's just sulking," Tony promised. "He's got air in there to last him hours."

 **XI.**

Natasha pulled out the chair Bruce had only just vacated.

Loki looked at her. One eyebrow betrayed curiosity.

"Mind if I play?" she asked.

"Whatever's your pleasure," he said. She noticed that he didn't meet her eyes as he said it.

"White or black?" she smiled.

 **XII.**

As Pepper watched in transfixed horror, Scott swayed. The he fell.

"Damn it Tony get it off of him!"

Tony toppled the glass and within the next heartbeat Scott was on his feet and running. "I can't believe you guys fell for that!" he shouted.

Pepper's heart beat erratically.

"This is the _last_ time I play with a real human." Tony promised.

Steve barely glanced up. "I wish I could say that was one of the weirder sentences I'd ever heard."

"Damn straight," Sam laughed.

 **XIII.**

Slowly, so as not to shake the table, Natasha rose to get herself a glass of eggnog.

Loki watched her suspiciously.

When she came back, she looked over the board, then pressed her lips together with a surprised little _hmm_.

Loki watched her.

Without looking at him, she moved a bishop.

From under his brows, Loki stared at her. Then flicked his eyes wordlessly back at the board.

Natasha sat back and wrapped one arm placidly about her midsection. She surveyed the room. She sipped her drink.

 **XIV.**

Sitting straight, Steve shook his head. "You got me, Stark," he grinned sheepishly. "Will you take this, with the railroad?"

"You know what?" Tony said, "Sure. Why not. I'll go easy on you," he held up a finger, " _once,_ Old Timer. Due to your _many_ years of service…"

"Maybe I'll take it back…"

"Too late." Tony snatched the cards. "You're mine now." He eyed Pepper, "Jealous?"

"No," she shook her head, "Not at all."

Tony looked at everyone seated around the table. He smirked proudly for anyone who happened to be watching, then stacked his cards.

 **XV.**

When Natasha came back, she had a plate of cookies that she set on the table, and a second glass. She put it next to Loki's hand.

He didn't appear to notice. His eyes were flickering restlessly over the board and he worried at the edge of his left thumbnail with his teeth.

It was a nervous tic Natasha had noticed.

After a moment, he put out his hand and moved a rook.

Sitting back, he flicked a look at her, then watched the board as she surveyed it. Delicately, she plucked up a bishop and took his pawn.

Loki lifted the glass, but he didn't comment.

She rested on her folded arms, watching him.

Finally, he lifted the glass again, then jerked, and looked at it. He looked at her. "You know this will not – in any way – impair me."

She gave a languid breath of a laugh, "Oh come on," she said. "If I'd wanted you drunk I would've had Thor spike your drink _hours_ ago."

He set the glass down. " _Mm_."

"So," she asked, "What do you think?"

He was looking at the board. "I think you ought not have moved your bishop there," he said.

She watched his long fingers. Then she nodded, once. "Nor you your knight." She took the piece. She looked at him, all but laughing at him. "You should have seen that."

He lips pressed together.

"And I _meant_ ," she stretched her arm, "the eggnog. I've never made it before. Just – you know – curious what anybody else thinks about it. Not that you really make a particularly good measuring stick. Have you ever _had_ eggnog before?"

" _Shut up._ "

Natasha laughed at him. "You _know_ your whole reputation doesn't ride on this _one game_ , right?"

He sat back, and he looked at her, his expression perfectly ambiguous.

Then he shook his head and bent again over the board.

Natasha could almost have sworn that he wanted to smile.

 **XVI.**

Natasha was laughing at something that Loki had said. Glancing at her from across the Monopoly board, Steve smiled. It was good for them – _both_ of them.

"I have to go to the bathroom." Scott said.

Stark set down his glass. "Nope."

"Tony," Pepper chided.

"He's a piece in my game," Tony said. "He hasn't got personal needs."

Sam laughed. Steve shook his head.

" _Fine_." Tony relented. "But make it snappy."

 **XVII.**

After consideration, Natasha moved a pawn.

 **XVIII.**

Banner shook his head. "I'm out guys," he said. He ran both hands through his hair and made it all stand up at odd angles. "I fold."

"Fine." Tony said. "But I hope you know I'm turning your 'Nature Preserve' into a 5-star hotel chain. Jacuzzis, valet parking, the whole nine-yards."

Scott – who had been sprawled despondently on Oriental Avenue – bolted upright. "You can _do_ that?"

"'Course I can."

Accepting the dice from Pepper, Strange shook them, "We can't _force_ you to keep playing," he said. He smirked at Scott. "Didn't you know that?"

"I fold!" Scott shouted. "I fold!"  
Banner stretched his shoulder. "Does anybody want anything from the kitchen?"

Scott took a leap off of the table and dove head-first onto the floor.

Abruptly, he sprang to his correct size.

He un-clipped his mask and gulped a few deep breaths.

"I am _not_ ," he said. "Doing that. Again. Ever."

 **XIX.**

Natasha moved a knight.

The floor creaked and she took a long breath, tipping her chin up to greet Thor where he stood grinning with one hand on the back of his brother's chair. "Are you two _still_ playing? I take it," he asked, "that this is the same game?"

Loki had sunk slightly lower toward the table, like he wanted to slide out from under Thor's hand.

"He's really good." Natasha said.

She pretended not to notice the smug smirk that flickered on Loki's face.

"And it seems you make a worthy combatant," Thor commented.

Natasha took Loki's pawn.

Loki scowled. He turned on Thor, "Do you _mind_?"

"Am I really so distracting?" Thor grinned.

Loki rolled his eyes. "Don't flatter yourself."

Natasha blinked up at Thor, "Imagine what the sight of your godly arms is doing to _my_ little heart,"

"So you noticed!" Thor laughed. He patted the back of Loki's chair. "I'll leave you to your game, then."

 **XX.**

"So, I'm buying Banner's electric company, since he's not _playing_."

"Go for it Tony," came his voice from the couch. "It's all yours."

 **XXI.**

Loki moved a pawn.

 **XXII.**

"All right." Steve pushed his chair back. "I'm out. Two and a half hours is enough for me."

"Fine. Spoilsport." Tony scooted his chair closer to Pepper's. He shook the dice. "Do you fold?"

Setting down her drink, Pepper shook her head. Her eyes flashed. "Nope."

Pausing, Tony let his arm down on the table top. He looked at her. "Have I told you, recently," he asked, "how beautiful you are?"

"You still have to pay rent, Tony."

"Darn it."

 **XXIII.**

Loki's king, ivory in his long fingers, took Natasha's bishop.

The kings surveyed one another. Black and ivory. On opposite sides of the board. Incapable of touching one another, for good or ill.

"I guess that's a tie," Wilson said helpfully.

 **XXIV.**

"Pepper, have you _no_ heart?"

"Can't afford to."

Tony looked at her. "Okay, I'm calling BS on that," he decided.

 **XXV.**

"I haven't played chess in a while," Scott said.

Opening his eyes, Loki surveyed him.

Scott smiled. "Mind if I take a turn?"

Loki sat up. "Why not," he said. "It should be a fast game."

Unruffled, Lang laughed. "Nothing like _her_ ," he said. He shook his head appreciatively. "To be honest," he said. He sat down, "she scares me."

 **XXVI.**

"Fine. You win. Happy now?"  
" _Yes_. I am." Pepper smiled. She sat back in her chair.

"So," Tony leaned over close to her. "Should we order pizza again?"

"Bruce and Natasha are working on something in the kitchen."

"If it's what _I'm_ thinking of we won't be seeing it until…sometime mid-September. My, query, about _dinner_ stands."

Suppressing a laugh, Pepper shook her head. "I don't know why I bother."

 **XXVII.**

"Check… _mate_?" Scott faltered.

Loki's head turned and he looked at him, then he frowned. "What?" He looked at the board.

Scott indicated the pieces, "I might be…wrong? I don't know. It's been…"

Scott let himself trail off, because Loki had started laughing.

Scott didn't know what to do. He glanced over his shoulder, looking for help, but everyone seemed to be occupied elsewhere.

This was the guy who'd set Dr. Strange's _hand_ on _fire_ when the doctor had tried to steal his notebook. It occurred to Scott a little belatedly that he might not take well to failure in any arena. Having never seen Loki laugh like that before, he wasn't at all sure that he shouldn't be looking for a panic button.

The fit passed, but Loki wasn't looking at him. He'd turned in the chair and had his elbow resting on the back of it. He was looking at the others where they were gathered across the room. He was still smiling.

Finally, watching Loki carefully and ready to bolt, Scott asked, "…Is it?"

"It is." Loki said. Shaking his head, Loki turned back. He took his own king and laid it sideways on the board with an easy smile. "Well played, Lang."

Scott blinked. "Really?"

"Yes, really," Loki eyed him, looking no end of amused. "I underestimated you."

"Wait I –" Scott sat up. "Really? Wow, um – I, thank – Thank you? Uh," fumbling, he looked at his hand, then stuck it out, "Game goo-uh – Good game."

Loki took his hand with that slight quirk still in his mouth. "Good game," he allowed.


	12. I Won't be Home for Christmas

**I.**

"Uh, Boss?"

Pepper glanced up from her plate and frowned perplexedly at Tony.

Wiping his mouth on a napkin, Tony sighed. "Is it important, Friday?" he grumbled. "It's not every day we actually _sit down_ for dinner."

"Yeah, sorry Boss," the AI said, "It's just that there are some…people here? I'm not really sure…"

"They'll _go away_." Tony said.

"I don't…"

"You know what?" Tony shook his head. "Never mind. I'll de-bug you later."

"Thanks Boss."

Tony looked at Pepper. "Right back," He got up and jogged off to the elevator.

Watching him go, Pepper shook her head, "I wonder what all that was about," she said.

On her other side, Bruce shrugged.

It took ten minutes for her to find out.

"You sure you don't want me to go see what's keeping him?" Steve asked.

"He's a big boy," Natasha argued.

Before Pepper could agree with her, she heard Tony coming. He'd taken the stairs, which was odd, and he was talking aloud to someone as he came.

Rhodey and Vision had both declined any plans for the day, but it wouldn't be the first time that Rhodes' schedule had changed abruptly. Pepper glanced across the table and considered that it would not be difficult to find another place.

She turned smiling to the door to greet their guest.

"…stairs," Tony was saying, "They're nobody's favorite. Might have to…"

Rhodes did not follow Tony through the door.

Pepper frowned.

"All right," Tony gestured behind him. "Meet the Avengers."

A little girl peeked out from the behind him.

"Don't be shy. Go ahead," Tony said. "They don't bite."

A slightly older boy edged around the doorframe, followed by two little girls, gripping one another's hands. And behind them, there were more.

Pepper gaped at Tony, looking for explanation.

"Avengers," Tony turned on one heel, spreading his hands as he looked over every present member of the team. His eyes sparkled. "They'll introduce themselves."

In all – as Pepper was to discover later – there were ten children, all between the ages of three and twelve. An eleventh crowed wordlessly from the carrier on – what Pepper assumed was – his father's back. There were five adults – parents – accompanying the children.

"Eh-eh-eh," Tony got their attention just as they were surging forward. "First. A deal's a deal. You promised a song."

Pepper watched, transfixed and almost stammering as the parents drew their children back and shuffled them around and almost broke a vase.

Then the parents were singing _Silent Night_ , and the children were whispering or mumbling or pinching one another, and shooting furtive little glances at the members of their audience.

Except for one little girl. She actually seemed to be enjoying the song.

All too soon, the song was over and the children had squirmed and wriggled their way out of their parent's hands and under the table and the parents were trying to talk to anyone _but_ their children, and Pepper had stood up and two women were shaking her hand and asking how it was to be living with _Iron Man_ , and _how she did it_.

She glanced in Tony's direction. He was leaning against the wall, ignoring the man with the baby on his back. Tony caught her look and used his two pointer fingers to trace a heart on the air.

She could only hope in the moment that what she said to the women both made coherent sense and could not be used against them later. As she could neither hear herself speak nor think, it was hard to tell.

There were times that she knew she loved Tony Stark.

There was no other explanation for why she would put up with this.

 **II.**

Steve had a soft spot for kids. He'd _always_ had a soft spot for kids.

But there were children everywhere.

"Are you really _Captain America_?" the kid asked. His eyes shone.

Steve smiled with one side of his mouth. "I am," he said. A small body crawled between his ankles and under his chair, "Um…"

The kid in front of him was jumping up and down and Steve caught him about his waist to save the back of his head from the table. "Woah now,"

"Did you _really_ punch Hitler? Right in the _face_?"

Startled – the kid couldn't be older than six or seven – Steve asked, "You like History books?"

He nodded his head vigorously.

Steve smiled. He ruffled the kid's hair. "I sure did," he answered.

Something brushed his shoulder, and it squeaked. Steve turned his head to see the face of a solemn-eyed child with curly blonde hair who had her feet hooked in the bottom rungs of his chair. "Hi," he said.

"That's Jessica," the boy told him. "She's my little sister."

"Nice to meet you, Jessica. I'm Steve."

Jessica cracked a shy little smile.

 **III.**

"And then you flew down! And then you caught her!"

The kid was really getting into this. Sam couldn't help but like it.

"It was awesome!" the little guy gushed. "Mom says I can have a Super Hero Birthday Party – I'm turning seven. You should come! It would be _so cool_!"

"Yeah?" but the kid had kept talking. He'd gone on to some other News story, "Wait, wait. _Slow down._ " Sam told him, "When's your birthday?"

"Not for a long time. But it's gonna be awesome."  
"Especially if I come, right?"

"That would be…" the kid was at a loss for words. His hands opened and closed like he was beckoning them closer, " _awesome_ ," he decided.

Sam laughed. "Your mom," he asked. "Is she here?"

"Over there."

"Okay. Why don't you get her to give me her phone. Then I'll put my number in there and she can call me to schedule. Got it?"

The kid didn't even bother to answer. He vanished like an apparition.

Sam put one arm behind the back of his chair and chuckled, watching the kid slip away.

Steve craned his neck to look over the head of the curly-haired blondie who had settled on his lap. "You _do_ know what you just agreed to?"

"Hey," Sam shrugged. "Just trying to make the world a better place. One kid's dream at a time."

 **IV.**

Stephen Strange was not at all sure how things like this happened to him.

What he did know, was that they happened more often around Tony Stark.

It wasn't that he didn't like children. It was only that the nearest thing to a child he'd experienced in the past decade was his seventeen-year-old cousin, when he'd gone – against his will – to her graduation ceremony.

Children moved very quickly, and they stared. He had no idea what they wanted of him, or how to make them go away. He'd never had much of a tolerance for things he did not understand.

"How come you're not part of the Avengers?" the taller – and assumingly older of the two boys demanded.

"I'm," Strange said, "…not a hero."

"That explains why I haven't heard of you." The boy said.

Strange thought his tone a touch superior for his taste.

"Who are you, anyway?"

"Doctor…" he was distracted by the stare of the younger one. The child was picking his nose. Strange shook himself, looking away. "Dr. Stephen Strange."

He nearly added _it's a pleasure to meet you_ , but decided against it as he thought 'lying to children' was probably a worse offence than a slight infraction of etiquette.

The little one frowned. "But you get the bad guys?" he asked.

"He _has_ to!" the larger one said. He smacked the younger on the back of his head with his hand. Then he looked apologetically at Strange. "He's my baby brother," he said. "He doesn't know much yet."

"I do _too_!"

The larger one ignored the smaller. "He's only five."

"Five, _and a half_!"

"Not until next Thursday!"

Strange did not know what was happening, but he found he liked this rather less than the other. So he fingered his sling ring from its place and flicked it so the sparks flew off of it and spun in a whorl. He let them fade.

The boys stared at the place where they'd hung with their mouths open.

"How…" the older boy asked. His eyes were huge. "…How did you _do_ that?"

"I'm a sorcerer," Strange said, with no little pride.

The little one looked from Strange, to his brother. "What's a –"

The older boy answered before Strange could. "He's a wizard."

The littler one's mouth dropped open. "Like _Harry Potter_?"

Strange grimaced. "Not quite –"

But it was too late.

"Can you fly?"

"Do that again!"

"I want to see!"  
"Do another trick!"

"What else can you do?"  
"Where are all the other wizards?"

"Did you actually _see_ Hogwarts?"

Natasha was helping a little one onto her lap. Seeing his predicament from across the table, her eyes laughed at him and her mouth took a mocking angle. She mimed opening the Eye of Agomotto.

As much as he wanted to….

 **V.**

Thor eyed the little boy appreciatively. "Wolfgang," he said. "A name with power!"

The child giggled and his hands fluttered up to his mouth.

"I think he likes you," the girl standing at Thor's shoulder said.

Thor glanced from her, to the little boy. He leaned forward on one elbow to be nearer the child. "Do you know," he said, lowly, "that were I come from – on Asgard – all the warriors wear their hair long? Like yours, and mine, and my brother's?"

Thor tapped Loki's shoulder, and, distracted from his conversation, Loki glared at him.

The boy's eyes glowed. "They _do_?"

"Oh yes," Thor nodded sagely. "'Tis a sign of might and bravery. You must be very brave, to wear your hair so long."

"Well, one time?" the child said, tipping one hand palm-up, "I saw a spider, and I didn't even yell. I didn't."

"Spiders," Thor said. He tried to look very serious. "They can be quite the savage beast. But not to worry –" he backpedaled because the boy had begun to look frightened. "They pose little threat to warriors of our mettle. So...um…what …what does _your_ family do to celebrate the Christmas-tide? It is a holiday we do not have on my…planet."

Wolfgang's eyes went wide, "You don't do _Christmas_?"

"No," Thor laughed. "Will you tell me about it?"

"Well," the little boy turned his hand palm up, "actually, my family _has_ Christmas. So I can tell you. We have a tree, sometimes. And cookies. I helped to make those. Some of them. Bella didn't let me put frosting on hers."

Thor leaned forward, "Do you like making cookies?"

"Yeah!" the boy bobbed his head, "I do!"

"That's wonderful," Thor smiled. "So do I!"

"You _do_?"

"Yes, truly," Thor chuckled at the child's wonder. "The Lady Pepper allowed me the use of her fine kitchen for just such a purpose."

"You _made cookies_?"

"I did. And we also have a mighty tree. Would you like to see it?"

The boy nodded, his eyes as big as the plates on the table. "Yeah, I would, actually. I really would."

As he stood, Thor saw the boy frown. "Is something amiss?" he asked.

"I think…" the boy tipped his head back to see Thor's face. "You should have your hammer."

"Mjolnir? Ah, yes. In the next room. Lady Pepper does not appreciate weapons being brought to her dinner table."

" _Oh,_ "Wolfgang nodded. " _My_ mom doesn't let me bring _my_ toys to the table _either_. Can I see it?"

"You may. You may even try to lift it, thought I warn you," Thor cautioned, "only the most worthy can succeed."

 **VI.**

A little girl with loose blonde curls and a red knitted hat stood in front of him and stared determinedly with no expression on her small face.

Accepting the challenge, Loki did not break eye contact with her.

He wondered if he might come out of this without having to make any kind of conversation.

Finally, she said. "You're Loki. I heard about you."

"Have you?" Loki looked languidly away. "How droll."

"You're a bad guy?"

He drew out a smile from one side of his mouth to the other, designed to unsettle. "The worst," he assured her.

A smile started in the child's eyes that blossomed slowly to her lips. She folded her little arms across her chest. "I _like_ bad guys." She said. She bounced on her toes. " _I_ think they're more _fun_."

Thor, who was talking to some small boy tapped his shoulder and Loki glared at him.

Putting aside as utterly inconsequential whatever it was Thor had been trying to get him for, Loki turned his attention back to the girl-child, who was swiftly beginning to amuse him. "Do you?" he asked.

A child who looked so like his examiner that they must be sisters and so similarly sized that he would hazard they were twins whirled from her latest interview with the realization of what her twin was doing wide in her eyes. "Melanie!" she shrieked.

She shot out an arm and took – Melanie's – wrist.

Melanie was not to be stopped so easily. She twisted away.

"Mamma doesn't _want_ us to talk to _him_ ," the second, more wary one, hissed. She shot furtive glances at him, which he ignored, shifting the table cloth that Thor had managed to tug askew before it caused yet _another_ avoidable disaster.

"Then don't." Melanie said primly. " _I'll_ talk to whomever _I want_."

Loki coughed a laugh. He was rapidly becoming more impressed with the child, and he enjoyed the conflict between the siblings. It was something with which he could relate.

At his laugh, the two had turned to face him.

"It appears," he said, smoothing the cloth a final time and giving the second girl his full attention, "that you know me already. But I must confess that that puts me rather at a loss, as I lack the pleasure of _either_ of your acquaintances."

"Oh, that's Julia," Melanie said in some disgust. "She's my sister."

"I had guessed as much." He wanted to laugh at them, but he did not. Steeling his expression to the solemnity expected of such encounters, he inclined his chin a fraction. "Well met, Julia," he said, "Melanie."

Julia was afraid to look at him. She glowered at her twin.

Melanie looked at Julia, then gave an exaggerated sigh as she rolled her eyes. "She doesn't like you," she told him.

Looking at Julia, Loki bit his tongue. "I'd noticed that."

"She only likes 'good guys'."

Finally, it seemed that Julia had born enough. She looked at him, her blue eyes flashing. "Thor's better!" she snapped.

Loki nodded his head. "He's an idiot," he allowed, graciously. "But he means well."

"He's _not_!" Julia stamped her foot.

Carelessly, Loki shrugged, enjoying the enraptured look on Melanie's face. "He has his uses."

Enraged beyond what words could ably convey, Julia stuck her tongue out at him.

Loki returned the gesture.

That was enough for Julia. She turned on her heel with an indignant _huff_ and made off.

Melanie giggled.

Loki allowed himself a low laugh.

Furtively, Melanie looked across the room at the assembled avengers. Then, shyly, she leaned in nearer to him. "Did you trick them all?" she whispered, her blue eyes dancing.

He met her eyes and lowered his own voice every bit as seriously. "Every one of them."

Her cheeks dimpled. "So you could learn _all_ their secrets and how to catch them?"

Slowly, he smiled. "Exactly."

She clapped her hands as she moved further back from him. "That's why you're my favorite!" she crowed.

Loki sat back in his chair, draping one arm over the table. "You know," he eyed her. "You're really quite an intelligent child." He jerked his chin a hair higher. "I'm impressed."

"You think so?" Melanie beamed. "That's – like – the coolest thing anybody's ever said to me!"

"I do." He glanced up to see where the other had gotten to, and found her in the miasma of children and chattering adults, tugging on the sleeve of a blonde woman who was animatedly talking to what appeared to be a very flustered Ms. Potts.

Thor rose from the table, leading the little boy who'd claimed him past a woman who all but collapsed at his glance. Another boy-child followed after the pair of them. No one made any move to stop the three.

"But I think it's time you ran along and joined your mother," he said to Melanie. "She misses you."

Melanie grimaced. "Julia tattled on me again," she complained. "I knew she would. She's twelve minutes older than me. She thinks she knows everything."

Loki watched as Thor and his two tiny companions vanished into the adjoining room. He nodded absently. "I understand completely."

What Thor could be thinking, he reflected as he drummed one finger absently on the table cloth, was beyond him. Keeping the depth of the invasion manageable was the only option for ridding themselves of it at all.

But then, likely Thor thought of this as a revel, rather than an invasion.

He and Thor had always seen certain things differently.

"Um…" Melanie bobbed up and down on her toes, "will you…?" Bashfully, she held one hand up to him.

Feeling oddly and surprisingly accommodating, Loki took her hand lightly and brushed his lips against the back of it. "Well met, Melanie of Midgard."

Melanie squealed for joy and threw her arms up and around his neck.

More than startled, Loki did not know how to respond.

Melanie did not give him time. She released him as quickly as she'd sprung, and fled through the mass of human bodies to her mother's side.

Sitting back, bemused, Loki watched her go.

 **VII.**

Bruce liked kids. He did. He really did. In small batches. In contained chaos. When he expected them.

Not like this.

Honestly, he thought, he ought to have expected something like this. Tony was just a bundle of altruistic joy at _normal_ times, forget Christmas. Bruce wondered briefly why he'd agreed to come at all.

As he got up, thinking he could really, _really_ use some air, Bruce was stopped by something small and fragile and adorable.

She brushed a lock of brown hair out of her eyes. "Hi," she whispered.

Bruce didn't know what to do.

"I'm nervous of the other guys," she whispered. "Mommy said I should talk to _somebody_ …"

"I…" Bruce re-adjusted his glasses, "I don't make you nervous?"

She shook her head. "You seem nice," she said. "Can I…" she looked up at him with big brown eyes, "Can I talk to _you_?"

Her brown eyes were hopeful. Slowly, Bruce lowered down onto his knees. "What do you like to talk about?"

Her cheek dimpled. "I like horses."

"Okay," he nodded his head. "Okay, let's talk about horses." He shrugged, "What do you like about them?"

 **VIII.**

"Are you a _princess_?"

Natasha's mouth quirked a little to one side. "No." She tucked a curl back behind the little girl's ear. "Are you?"

The little girl giggled. She shook her head.

"No? I thought you _must_ be."

She squirmed on Natasha's lap. Natasha smiled at her. She thought that the little girl could be three or four years old. The perfect size and shape.

"So," Natasha bounced the little girl on her knees. "What do you like to do best for Christmas?"

"P'estents!" she shouted.

Natasha laughed. "Presents?"

"We're goin' to G'a'ma's house for C'is'mas ag'in," she said proudly.

"Oh? Do you like it there?"

"Uh-huh," the girl nodded her head solemnly. "G'a'ma makes tookies,"

"Does she let you help?"

The girl nodded again. "I mix 'em!"

Natasha smiled. "I like to make cookies too. And sometimes," she confided, "I even let Scott mix."

The little girl tipped her face up and looked at Natasha with her pure, soft eyes. "I wanna be _just 'ike you_ when I g'ow up."

Natasha let her eyes drop to the hem of the blue corduroy dress that the little girl was wearing. It caught the low light of the overhead lamp as she straightened it.

Meeting the little girl's look, she smiled. "I hope you'll be just like _you_ when you grow up."

Delighted, the little girl laughed. She leaned forward to peer into Natasha's face, "Can we be f'ends?"

Natasha jostled her playfully on her lap as she shrieked with laughter. "I thought we were already friends."

 **IX.**

"Leo," Scott ventured. "Would you mind letting go of my head?"

"But I wanna see you shrink!" he laughed.

"I –" Scott shook his head, trying to lose the boy without knocking heads with his sister, who was sitting on his lap, "–can't do it when you're on top of me!"

"I'm just gonna squash you down!"

"It doesn't work like that!" Scott protested.

The girl on his lap, giggled.

Leo leaned around to peer _way too closely_ at Scott's face. "Would you do it if I let go?"

"Yes you can!" Gretta chortled. She squirmed on Scott's lap and he was afraid that she'd fall off.

"But you'll crush me!" Scott argued. He pushed the boy's hands off his head.

"No I won't!" Leo jumped up and down. "I'll put you in a jar!"

The other girl, younger, quieter, hanging off the back of Natasha's chair next to him, laughed at that. Scott thought she looked like Cassie.

"Then we could take you home!" Gretta giggled.

"And Mom wouldn't even notice!" Leo said.

"We could feed him little bits of food!"

"And he could play outside with our action figures!"

"And you could ride Morph –" Gretta broke off for a beat, meeting his eyes, "Morph is our cat –" then, just as violently, she was giggling again, "I could make him a little house –"

Scott shook his head. This was going too far. "You're not making me a little house."

"But _I_ want to make his house!" Leo objected.

"Guys," Scott said, "Nobody's making me a house."

"We could make him a tent!" Gretta grinned. "In the garden!"  
"No!" Scott looked from one child to the other, "Nobody's making me a tent _or_ a house –"

"He can live in my window!" Leo exclaimed.

" _Lee-oh_!" Gretta wailed. "I want him in _my_ room!"

"I'm not living in anybody's room!" Scott shouted. "I have my own room!"

 **X.**

Tony leaned back against the bar with his hands folded across his chest. Occasionally, he nodded. The man was trying to explain some…something to him. He thought it might pay to at least look _minorly_ interested. But he wasn't listening. He was watching the Avengers get overrun.

Tony loved it.

Revenge was sweet.

"No no no," Thor was trying to lead a pair of blonde kids off of the floor. "Meat Swing, no. Keep it isolated _here_ Big Guy, okay? Okay thanks." Rubbing his left ear he turned back to the man. The baby in the carrier he wore flailed its fists and cooed.

Tony waved at it. "No, I'm listening. Really. By all means."

Tony knew he'd be paying for this later, in some not-so-subtle form or other. But he didn't care. He'd just made about a dozen little kids' Christmas dreams come true.

 **XI.**

Pepper made him promise _never_ to surprise her like that again.

Ever.


	13. Winter Wonderland

**I.**

Eleven o'clock rolled round at its usual time, and Steven Rogers and Natasha Romanoff had arrived home, bearing with them tidings of comfort and joy in the persons of Wanda Maximoff, Barton, Mrs. Barton, and the three Barton babies.

That, and it was Thunder-from-Down-Under's last day at the Tower before he left them all to holiday with his scientifically-inclined girlfriend.

It was a sunny day, and there had to be snow enough _somewhere_.

Tony had plans.

He waited for the door to click shut behind the rush of chattering people before he strolled nonchalantly into the foyer. "Oh. Good. You're here. I'm going sledding."

Natasha was hanging her coat on the hook. She flicked him half a glance, ignoring his statement. "Hi Tony."

Wanda rolled her eyes. The baby on her hip cooed.

Turning, Natasha helped her to open the baby's coat.

Laughing a little behind his self-righteousness, Steve shook his head, "Let me just get these…" He left, carrying a bundle of bags that seemed larger than he was.

Barton set the two bags he was carrying on the floor. "Don't I even get a hello first?"

"Nope." Tony bent down to the tiny brunette who was just shedding her outer garment. "Let your Uncle Tony get a look at you."

Lila smiled at him.

"How old are you now? Like…seventeen?"

She grinned. "I'm six."

"No way,"

"Tony," Pepper chided.

"Um…Present?" he angled his head back to look at her.

Pepper ignored him. She went past him to take Mrs. Barton's bag. "It's good to see you again, Laura. How was your flight?" She hugged Laura, then looked reprovingly back at Tony, "At least let them unpack first."

Tony looked at the other Barton child. Cooper grinned at him.

"You seem…" Tony frowned, putting a hand on the boy's head, "…taller. Wouldn't you rather," Lila was jumping up and down and he put a hand over her face, "have the smaller agents out from under your feet?"

Mrs. Barton tipped her head thoughtfully.

"See?" Tony pounced. "I know things."

"I _did_ bring their snowpants," Mrs. Barton allowed.

Now _hold up_ ," Barton said. He put his hands up to call time. "Don't _I_ get a say?"

Tony put a hand over his mouth as though deep in thought, "Wasn't planning on it," he murmured, mainly to himself, "but sure. Why not. Barton, you're coming with." He gave a cough of a laugh. "Surely you don't expect _me_ to keep order."

Barton looked balefully at his wife.

"It _would_ be helpful to have them out…"

"You wanna go sledding with Uncle Tony?"

Above his head Tony heard Pepper give a wry chuckle.

Barton hung his head.

Laura gave an apologetic little wince. "Sorry Honey."

The Barton children knew when they had won. They cheered.

"Yay!" Tony joined them – if sarcastically. He clapped Clint on the shoulder, "Drop the bags."

"You _sure_ you don't need my help?" Barton asked.

"We got it," Natasha said. "Go ahead."

"Thanks Nat," Barton drawled.

From her corner with the baby, Wanda smirked.

"All right, done." Tony snapped his fingers. "Let's get the rest of your uncles."

 **II.**

When they found Bruce, he was pouring over some book. He saw them coming, removed his headphones, and smiled at Lila, who stood beside his table. He took off his glasses. "Hey, good to see you two again," he said.

Lila smiled shyly.

Bruce shook Cooper's hand, "You got taller," he said. "What's…going on, Tony? I'm assuming you didn't just come in here to say hi…"

"We're going sledding." Tony said. "Want to come with? Make a niece and nephew's dreams come true?"

"Yeah, not to mention a certain over-excited billionaire's..." Bruce smirked.

"I have…no idea, what you're talking about," Tony decided.

"He means you!" Lila giggled.

Tony smooshed her face with his hand. "So, you in?"

"Yeah, yeah. Let's go." Pushing out his chair, Bruce stood up.

"Let's…" Tony faltered. "Just like that?"

"Yeah," Bruce said. "Sounds fun." He put out a hand, and Lila took it.

Thor was next. He and his brother were in the middle of what might have been an argument, and might have been a conversation. Tony had come to respect that the distinction between the two was fuzzy. Thor set it aside the moment the door opened. He greeted the Barton children like royalty and agreed with all of his usual enthusiasm to take part in what he still insisted upon calling, "the revels".

Loki, unsurprisingly, was less eager.

"You _will_ come with us." Thor told him.

Loki did not say anything to the contrary. In fact, he didn't say anything at all. He rose, inclined his chin to the two children whom he had until that point ignored, and swept out the door ahead of his brother.

Sam Wilson set aside the novel he'd picked up, "Hell yeah," he said. "Why not?"

Scott Lang, boundless bundle of energy that he was, was all for it.

When they found Stephen Strange, he was sitting at a table behind steepled fingers and a blank computer screen – Tony told Cooper to check and make sure he was _on_ a chair, which statement made the young gentleman laugh. The laugh jolted the sorcerer from his reverie.

"No seriously," Tony said, "check. He…doesn't, sometimes."

And Cooper wanted an explanation for _that_ , so Strange agreed to come too.

Steve was an easy win. He'd already found boots and gloves for all of them by the time they made the lobby.

They jostled and laughed and it sounded like some sort of kindergarten fracas before they'd all suited up.

Except for Loki and Barton. Tony was pretty sure they were sulking.

Pepper came to check on them.

"I've assembled the Avengers," he told her.

Laughing a little, she bent forward and kissed him. "Have a good time."

As she turned to go back, he heard Laura's laugh from deeper inside the bowels of the Tower, and he thought of the four women he was leaving behind, unaccompanied except by a baby, in the Tower he fully intended to return home to.

"Please, don't hurt us," he called after her.

Pepper turned back with one hand on the doorframe. She bit her lip. Then she smiled. "No promises," she said.

 **III.**

"Um…" Tony turned distractedly after his stocky archer. He took off his glasses, "we're going…this way."

Barton didn't break stride. "I'm not going anywhere, without a coffee."

"Your _kids_ ," Tony insisted, "are going _this_ way."

" _I_ ," Barton mimicked his sing-song tone, "need a _co_ -ffee. Keep the kids."

Lila giggled, and when Tony turned to scrutinize her, she covered her mouth with both mittened hands.

"Is he always like this?"

"Yeah," her little cheek dimpled.

Tony flicked the side of her head. "Okay," he called, "But Uncle Tony's buying _everyone_ something special."

Lila bounced. "Even _me_?"

"Lila, Darling" Tony winced as he knelt down in the snow and took both her hands in his. " _especially_ you."

 **IV.**

The up-side of being bundled up like a minimum wage cold storage worker was that one was stopped less often by paparazzi and tabloid journalists. Much as Tony enjoyed the attention, anonymity was – he decided – refreshing.

He was standing with Rogers at a booth, renting a few long sleds when some gangly twenty-something with a camera asked to take their picture.

Picture taken, Tony turned back to the man in the booth and gave him the money.

"You think he knew who we were?" Rogers asked.

"Who, Andrew Garfield? Didn't ask for autographs, so…my guess is no."

"Andrew Garfield?"

At this point? It didn't even phase him. "An actor."

"Oh."

The snow crunched under their boots as they dragged their sleds back to where the rest of the team was gathering.

Tony stopped, "Where has he been?" he asked, indicating Clint.

Sam smirked, "Oh, he drew the short straw."

Lang clarified that that meant he had to take Lila to the bathroom.

"Happens." Tony said. "And why was there even a straw? She's _his_ kid."

His breath was wet against his scarf. He pushed it under his chin, turning to Rogers. "How _didn't_ he recognize me?" he wondered aloud.

Rogers shrugged. "Maybe he doesn't read the papers."

Tony looked at him.

Rogers cracked the barest hint of a smile.

"You deserve a snowball for that." Tony decided. "A whole slew of 'em. Right in the kisser."

"Who are you gonna get with a snowball?" Cooper stopped talking to Banner, interested, suddenly.

"Uncle Steve." Tony said. "We're gonna push him down the hill on a sled, and then when he gets to the bottom, we're gonna _bury him_ under snowballs. How does that sound?"

Lila laughed.

"Well you're gonna have to catch me first," Steve said placidly.

Then he sprinted across the snow with one of the sleds.

"Come _on_!" Lila crowed. "Let's get him!"

Tony turned in time to watch her try to slip her little mittened hand into Loki's.

Tony started laughing.

Trying to shake Lila off his hand, Loki snapped, "What?"

"Your eyes went like –" Tony mimed his eyes getting huge with his hands.

Loki's eyes narrowed. He glared at Lila, "Will you –"

Clint tried to remove his daughter, "You could pick," Clint grimaced, " _anyone_ else…"

"You don't wanna say that," Tony warned, but it was too late.

Loki's eyes glittered and the space he and Lila had been in, snapped. They appeared about twenty yards away, almost directly on top of the fleeing captain.

Lila's gleeful shrieks reached them across the snow.

Clint blinked, then shook his head and sighed.

"You brought it on yourself, Buddy," Tony patted his back. "See, phrases like 'You coulda picked _anyone_ else' gives _him_ the idea that –"

"I got it, Stark."

 **V.**

Tony was never quite sure how it happened that he had jumped on a sled behind Rogers and Banner, and was dragging Loki after him. He had the vague idea that it was some sort of ill-conceived answer to what he had taken to be Thor's challenge, when he saw Thor, Strange and Lang all tackle a sled.

However it came to pass, Tony came his senses in the snow at the bottom of the hill, with Steve and Bruce laughing, and Loki cursing in a foreign language while he spat snow out of his mouth. Half-buried in the drift, Tony watched him for almost a minute before Loki met his eyes and Tony sputtered a laugh.

Livid, Loki hissed something – in English – that started with, "If you _ever_ do anything of the kind again…" and went off into something descriptive and homicidally-charged that Tony didn't really listen to.

Finally, as Loki paused to take a breath, Tony lifted one hand, " _So_ , you're doing something new…"

Loki looked at him, shock plain on his face.

"And you didn't like it." Tony patted his shoulder. "And it's all my fault. You're welcome. What else are friends for."

Loki's face went very blank.

Tony stuck out an arm, "A little help?"

Loki sneered, "Help yourself."

The air twisted and he appeared back at the top of the hill, unruffled, like nothing had happened.

Beside him in the snow, Bruce laughed wryly.

Steve got to his feet. "You all right?" he asked.

"Yeah," Tony said. "He went all fifty-shades of pissed,"

"I don't think he likes surprises very much," Steve agreed. He extended his hand to help Tony to his feet.

"You should maybe choose your targets with a little more discretion…" Banner suggested.

"Nah," brushing snow off his elbow, Tony side-eyed Loki where he stood at the top of the hill with a scowl on his face and his arms folded. "He'll forgive me."

"Next century?" Steve offered.

"Yeah," Bruce laughed, "Only after he curses your entire family."

"Well won't you just be surprised." Tony said smugly.

 **VI.**

The snowball fight, however, was _not_ Tony's fault.

In fact, he went so far in detailing the scrimmage to Pepper the next day, as to openly – and admittedly – style himself the victim in that encounter.

He'd been marching himself _back_ up the hill – _again_ – after giving Lang a break and taking Lila down (Considering that she was only six, being incapable of dragging the sled up the hill herself was forgivable.) when he'd been given a nice friendly jolt on the old PTSD by sudden impact to the side of his head.

"At first I thought it was Loki, because he threatened – justifiably,"

Pepper nodded.

"– to…uh…I wasn't listening. Something bad. To me. Probably involving evisceration, laceration, photosynthesis, defenestration…some slew of fun SAT words. But then I figured he's a little homicidal for _snow balls_ , right? But _somebody threw that snowball_."

"Did you ever find out who it was?" Pepper asked placidly.

"Well that's just it –"

Tony told her that he'd finally guessed that – whoever it was, he owed Rogers a snowball. So, as innocuously as possible, he stooped, crushed some snow between his hands, and flung it at Rogers.

Rogers laughed. He turned on Wilson, "So that's how it is?"

That was all it took.

Strange left his – no doubt _scintillating_ – conversation with Banner after he got clipped on the back of the head.

"The sling-ring doesn't slow him down any."

Pepper nodded. "I wouldn't doubt it."

The kids loved it. Lila was on Barton's back, and Cooper and Lang had forged some sort of alliance, back-to-back, thick as…well…thieves.

Loki had rolled his eyes and gone to step out of the line of fire when he was done the honor of being knocked off his feet by a flying Thunder God.

"Thor really doesn't get the concept behind snow ball fighting. It's sortof more of a huge free-for-all for him. To-the-death kinda deal."

Tony had thought, for a minute, that Loki would level the city.

It took him _possibly_ longer than it should have to realize that the sound he was hearing was Loki laughing.

"Not the can't-believe-you-fell-for-it laugh, Pepper. I kid you not, he was – giggling. He was giggling. Thor was tickling him, and laughing, and Loki was giggling and pushing snow into Thor's face…." Tony ran his hands through his hair. "The only moment that came _close_ to that tension level was when Bruce got clipped. But he just froze long enough to scare everyone."

"Sounds like you had a good time." Pepper sorted another stack of papers into a pile next to her on the table, and a different one into a box on the floor.

"Yeah, I guess," Tony kicked one leg. "I mean, it was okay. I just wish I knew who started the whole thing."

 **Approximately eighty-seven minutes after the snowball fight.**

"Tony!" Pepper met him in the doorway. He was entirely encrusted with snow. "What _happened_? Are you," gingerly she almost touched the swollen spot under his left eye. "Are you _okay_?"

"Snowball fight,' he shrugged. "Nothing weird."

"Well either get your wet things off then or get off of my carpet."

"Oh," Tony said, "Right." He stepped aside. "Wait. So it's _your_ carpet now?"

"Yes. Tony. I've got a personal claim on this carpet. Get the snow out of my living room."

Everyone else was trailing in, including the two tiniest members of the team. Cooper and Lila were flushed and out of breath like everyone else, but they were shivering.

Laura got up from the couch to come and greet them. " _Clint_ ," she chided.

"Laura," Barton held up his hands, "They were having fun."

"I'll make some hot chocolate." Pepper decided.

"Are you okay?" Laura was asking Lila. "You're half frozen!"

"I'm hungry." Lila shivered.

"Already been dealt with." Tony said before Pepper could do more than glance at Laura and Natasha. "I ordered a Schmitt-ton of pizza. Be here any minute."

Pepper looked at him, very dry, wondering, as she often did, what it was about him that kept her here.

Tony shrugged. "I like pizza. So does Thor. As the biggest eater in the Tower – if not the world – he _does_ get a slightly higher-rating vote than most."

"I'm c-cold."

Pepper turned back to help Laura get off Lila's wet things.

Natasha got smoothly up off the couch. "I'll go make the hot chocolate," she said.

Wanda shouldered the baby, "I'll help you."

 **VII.**

Tony followed Steve and the pizzas back into the common room.

Most of the Avengers were present, in dry clothing, talking softly amongst themselves, sprawled on the furniture. Lang was playing with the kids somewhere.

"Put them right on the table," Pepper told Steve. "Let me help you with those."

"Before anybody asks," Tony put his hands up, "Yes, I did offer to carry any number of the twelve, and no, I wasn't about to get in a fight over it with a senior citizen. _That_ mystery solved," Tony rubbed his hands together. "You'll never guess who delivered them all."

Thor had turned to face the door at their entrance and, obliging as ever, he asked who.

"You see," Wilson said. He was seated on the couch next to Thor and the two of them seemed to have been in conversation prior to Tony's arrival. "That's what I'm _talking_ about, Man. _That's_ why."

"I only…" Thor faltered, moving one hand, palm up in a helpless shrug as he laughed at Sam's accusation.

"No," Wilson pressed. "You walked right into his trap, Dude. He _knew_ you'd say that."

"You've seen how he is, Wilson," Loki said. He was taking up most of the adjoining couch, "You'll only exhaust yourself."

"How _I_ am?" Thor protested with a laugh, "What _else_ was I _supposed_ to say?"  
Tony gave an obvious and much put-upon sigh that he could feel with his knees. "You _could_ just guess."

Finishing with the pizza's, Pepper came over and kissed his cheek. "Here you go," she handed him a drink.

"Oh," Tony said. "From you?" he accepted it. "Thanks Honey."

"Who was it, Tony?" Laura asked. She was behind the bar where the floor was easier to clean, trying to spoon-feed baby Nathaniel something he didn't care for. She didn't look up as she asked, which Tony thought spoke _volumes_ for Clint.

"See?" Tony pointed at her, " _She_ gets it."

On the nearer side of the bar, in what appeared to be her favorite place in the Tower – which was to say – by _any_ window, Wanda rolled her eyes.

"It was Tom Holland." Tony said. "Or his slightly-shorter, marginally less British, more blond cousin."

No one said anything. Thor turned and looked at Wilson, who shrugged.

Shaking his head, Steve wiped his hands and folded his arms, taking a standing place by the card-table where they'd left the pizzas. A little smile played on his mouth.

"Child actor?" Tony prompted. "British? Cute as a button? I can't believe this," Tony pressed the bridge of his nose. "How are you not getting this? Don't _any_ of you _watch_ television?"

"Some of us have – other things to do." Rogers suggested.

"I think what he meant to say," Wilson said, "was 'better'. Some of us have _better_ things to do."

"Arguably," Rogers put out one hand like he was telling Wilson to simmer down.

"Or we don't…" Thor said significantly into his glass, "live, in your tiny world."

Loki seemed to like that.

Tony chose to ignore the two of them and deal with Rogers. "Like 'read the paper'?"

Wilson laughed. "Ouch, Cap. You want a little ice for that?"

"No thanks," Steve smiled. "I've had enough ice for one lifetime."

"On a… _less dark_ note…Talented kid," Tony shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. "I'd love to take him under my wing."

Natasha was sitting behind the bar, attempting to run some kind of assistance mission to Mrs. Barton. She looked at Tony quizzically, "An _actor_ , Tony?"

"From the spy," Tony snorted. "He'd make a phenomenal protégé. Carry the Stark image."

Clint swiveled on the bar stool. "That doesn't tell a single one of us who he is," he pointed out. He kicked one heel.

"Oh…what might he have been in that one of you lesser minds might have seen…?" Tony mused.

"Um, _hey_?" Bruce turned. He and Strange were talking again, on one of the farther couches.

"Not you," Tony waved. "Science-Bros gotta stay together. You too, Strange. Facial-Hair-Bros."

Strange ran one hand over his face. "I hate him," he said, wonderingly.

Bruce laughed.

"…something a little more – erudite – than _Lip Sync Battles_ …" Snapping his fingers Tony whirled on Pepper, "Didn't he play what's-his-name-cuter –" breaking off he turned to Thor with the same palm-down gesture Rogers had used just a moment before, "no offense Thor, the other one looks like he could've been your brother –" he glanced at Loki, " _other_ brother, that is." Swiveling back to a rather confused Pepper Tony asked, "Doesn't he play the cuter member of the," he traced the shape with his fingers, "triangle in _The Hunger Games_?"

Pepper looked from Wanda, to Laura, Natasha, and Barton.

Wanda blinked vacantly. "I don't watch television," she said, "besides the News…"

Tony rounded on Rogers. "Good news is, we know she's yours."

Rogers gave an indulgent smile.

"Explain to me," Tony turned on the room at large, "how there are…" he counted on his fingers and held up his hands, " _ten_ American adults in this room and not _one_ of you knows what I'm talking about."

Laura set down her phone. "Josh Hutcherson," she said.

They all looked at her.

"That's who plays him," she explained.

"Thank you!" Tony said. "See? Points to the Mrs. Barton."

"Wait," Bruce said, "I don't follow. Josh Hutcherson plays Tom Holland in _The Hunger Names_ and you think he brought us pizza?"

"It says here he plays…Peeta?" Laura clarified.

"Yes, cuter, more-love-worthy love interest." Tony said. "And it's _The Hunger_ Games _,_ Buddy. Not names. You gotta be more careful or the other kids are gonna pick on you at school. Gotta keep up with the times people, if we wanna stay relevant. By the way is that a…bow and arrow?" Breaking off he turned back to Laura, "Out of curiosity, what was the name of the other one?"  
"The other…?" Laura looked mystified.

"The other guy that's after Katnis that's – speaking of getting picked on at school – _not_ named after food. The shoulda-been-related-to-Thor one. No, seriously," Tony looked at Thor, "you have to see the movie. The resemblance is uncanny. To be honest, it's kindof unsettling. I don't want to look at you right now."

Laura was tapping at her phone, "You mean…Gale?"

"He's got a girl's name." Clint said.

Wilson laughed. "The thunder and the gale," he said. He tipped his eggnog at Tony, "I see what you did there."

"No, seriously, he looks _just like him_."

"Do Asgardian parents do that?" Bruce asked, "Name their kids with a theme?"

"Occasionally," Thor said. "Many choose names that rhyme."

"Not yours," Wilson pointed out.

"No," Thor said amiably, "but their meanings are similar. Thor," he nodded, indicating himself, "Thunder. And Loki," he gestured to his brother, "Fire. We used to make believe that we were the thunder and the lightning."

"That is _so_ cute," Laura gushed. She smeared something off the baby's face.

Nathaniel looked disgruntled.

"What she said." Tony pitched in. "Now, for the benefit of our viewers back home, would you mind describing to your judges how that worked – exactly."

"The personifications, Stark," Loki said dryly. "Not the thing itself."

"And here I am, still in the dark about who Tom Holland is," Clint complained.

Laura laughed at him.

"Uh…" Tony pinched the bridge of his nose.

" _The_ … _Impossible_ …?" Strange suggested.

Tony snapped his fingers, "The Doctor is in!" He looked hopefully at the group of them, then rolled his eyes.

"It's a disaster movie," Strange explained.

" _You_ , at least, should have seen it," Tony gestured at Rogers.

"About a tsunami in the Indian Ocean that occurred in 2004."

"Took place on Christmas day, actually," Tony said. "We should add that to the list…"

"Oh I _do_ remember that!" Pepper said. "With Ewan McGregor?"

"Figures you remember _him_ ," Tony snorted. "He's the only reason she lets me watch _Star Wars_."

"These 'Star Wars'," Thor straightened. "I have heard of them."

"Alright," Wilson said. "I get that you're from out of town, but _how_ have you not seen _Star Wars_?"

"He hasn't either," Tony accused Steve.

"That," Steve gave a smug little smile, "is one I _have_ seen, actually."

Tony put a hand to his heart. "And you didn't tell me? That's it." Tony held up his hands. "Once we're through with – _this_ ,"

"This?" Pepper asked with a mocking smile.

"And by 'this' I mean 'Christmas'." Tony clarified. "Once we're through with _this_ we're having a marathon. _All_ the _Star Wars_ movies. All three of you – Thor, Loki, Rogers – because, _seriously_? You're disowned. Out of the will. – Here. Anybody else is welcome, but it's not mandatory." He rubbed his hands together. "Should be a good time – not to over sell it, but _I'm_ gonna have fun bringing these heathens to the Force. Shouldn't be much of a stretch for you two," he pointed at Thor and Loki. "Hyper-Speed's pretty much like your By-Frost…thing. There's a crazy old man from the desert combating the forces of evil personified in a very Third-Reich-style regime…" he'd been pointing at Rogers, and, catching himself, he frowned. "Why am I even _talking_ to you?" Tony pointed to Thor, "There's a blonde Chosen-One whose heart is bigger than his head when it comes to – shall we say – _family history_ …and I don't know what to make of _you_ ," he indicated Loki. "Because you're _not_ Vader. And _I'm_ – obviously – the Smuggler who's in it for the money and gets the hot girl."

Pepper chuckled.

"Spoiler alert?" Barton said.

Wilson – abruptly – choked on his drink, and started laughing.

Looking at him, Tony cocked his head a little to one side.

Wilson was laughing so hard, he had to set his eggnog on the table.

Tony looked over the rest of the team. "Was I _that_ good?" he asked.

" _I_ didn't think so," Clint said.

Wanda chuckled.

Laura looked up from Nathaniel's face, "Wanda, you have to come see…"

Obligingly, Wanda left her place and went to coo at the baby.

Tony looked back at Wilson. "Is he…okay?"

Obligingly, Thor thumped him on the back.

Unable to talk, Wilson held up one hand.

"Five words…" Tony guessed.

Behind him, at the bar, Clint chuckled.

"What now?"

"Well," Clint explained. "Speaking of spoilers, I think he wants to remind you of Episode Five."

Wilson gave him a thumbs up.

"The big reveal… _there_ ," Clint said ominously, "…at the end."

Tony looked at Loki.

Loki looked from one of them, to the other, a frown forming between his eyebrows.  
"Son of a Gun." Tony snapped his fingers. "Good catch, Barton, Wilson."

"Oh," Wilson said, catching his breath. "I'm gonna have to _be there_ for _this_!"

"Might be that kid's birthday," Steve cautioned.

"He said that's months away," Wilson waved him off. "And in that case you'd send me Friday's feed, wouldn't you?"

Tony snapped his fingers. "On it. Never mind, Reindeer Games. You're a Skywalker after all."

"It is amusing that your tale uses that particular name," Thor said languidly, "and that you would apply it to my brother." He turned to Loki, distracting Loki from the suspicious looks he was still favoring Barton and Wilson with, "Wasn't that what they called you back in…what was it? Alfheim?"

Tony set down his drink and covered his face with his hands, kneading his eye sockets. "You're not serious?"

"They did indeed," Loki smiled slowly.

Tony wondered what number drink Loki was on. Thor had broken out a little flask and the two of them were sharing it between themselves, occasionally offering it to Rogers. He thought he should have kept count, because Loki's responses were just the tiniest bit slower than normal – being as…alcoholically inclined…as Tony was, he knew the signs – and it would have been…strategically helpful…to know what it took the Mischief god to get to that point.

"After," Thor made a continuing motion with his hand, "you won the Sky-Shoes off of Maugrim the Bold."

Loki shifted slightly more upright on the couch. "More like 'Maugrim the Miserable at Cards', he was _woefully_ drunk," he grinned, "but yes."

"Hold up," Strange interrupted, lifting one of his hands. "You stole the shoes off a drunken elf?"

"I won them, _fairly,_ " Loki told him loftily. His words slurred together in a way that was barely perceptible, but Tony caught it and smirked to himself. "In a game of chance. He knew the rules. Luck was in my favor and thus I… _inherited_ the Sky-Shoes."

Wilson shook his head, "Unbelievable."

Loki gave him a sharp, condescending smile. "Such gambling happens often in other parts."

"Sky shoes?" Rogers chocked his head. "They could," he opened one hand in a kind of shrug, "walk on air?"

Without turning his head, Loki answered him, "Boots that could walk on air easily as those more customarily made do on land. Yes, Captain Rogers."

Strange nodded his head as though that made sense to him.

Bruce said, "That's incredible."

"Whatever happened to those?" Thor asked lazily.

"Mm…" Loki shook his head, setting down his glass so he could sit straighter on the couch, "I haven't the slightest."

"Wait, wait, hold _on_ ," Wilson demanded. "You have shoes that can _walk on air_ , and you _lost_ them?"

Loki blinked at him, seeming a little dazed. "…Yes."

Tony shook his head. "And Cap talks to _me_ about privilege," he muttered.

Steve grinned at him, but before anyone could say anything further, there was a resounding crash somewhere down the hall, and Scott appeared in the doorway.

"Nobody's hurt," he said.

Two little heads, belonging first to Lila and then to Cooper, poked out from behind his back.

The smell of the erstwhile-ignored pizzas was wafted onto the air.

"You know what?" Tony said. "I forgot where I was going anyway. Forget it. Let's eat."

 **Moments before the snowball fight.**

Strange's eyes glittered. "What's he doing?"

Furtively, Banner glanced over Strange's shoulder. He gave a short laugh. "Right now he's… _trying_ to make it look like he's not looking for whoever threw that."

Strange smiled. "I think we were absolutely right about him."

"Oh yeah," Banner said. "He's got some snow now. He's trying to make it look like it was somebody else."

Dr. Stephen Strange gave a slow smile. "The game," he said. He pocketed his sling ring. "Is _on_."

* * *

 **I hope I've got a couple _Sherlock_ fans out there ;)**

 **I have not - nor will I - give up on this story. We have a little ways yet to go (a lot of these scenes were written on consignment and nobody's letting me off of our agreement. Not that I _really_ mind. This has been a weird ride) I can all but guarantee that this fic will be done by New Years. I have all of it written in the form of notes and napkins and occasional pages, and all but the last couple chapters typed. All that truly remains is editing and posting. Not sure what the actual number IS for chapters remaining. Some of them will be considerably shorter (I have a _Christmas Carol_ spoof that takes up 6 short chapters) and a few regular chapters both before and after that, plus the epilogue. **

**Anyways. Long-story-short. This isn't going anywhere incomplete, and updates will pick up as we get nearer the Christmas season. Thirdly and finally, THANK YOU to all of you who have bee reading/favoriting/following/reviewing. Each and every one of you has made my day over and over again. I hope that the story lives up to your expectations.**


	14. Let it Snow

**Two months between updates. Not bad, right?**

 ***crickets***

 **I've been busy in my time away. We're looking at 27 chapters IN ALL. And before you get alarmed/excited, there should be…2(?) more of comparable length to those I've already posted. Most of the rest of them will be shorter. Or they SHOULD be, shorter. Things have a habit of getting away from me.**

 **I'm nearly done with all of it, and I'll be working to get the rest to you between now and early January!**

 **I.**

"So, just to let me recap," Tony pressed the bridge of his nose with one hand, not quite sacrificing his grip on the glass to steady himself on the arm of the couch he was straddling. "You _have_ a brother, you were – quite literally – _raised in the circus_ – and you didn't think that _any_ of that," he waved his hand definitively, nearly losing his balance for his theatrics, "was pertinent _before_ now."

Unabashed, Barton gave a one armed shrug. "Tasha knew."

Tony snorted and from across the ring of couches, Bruce laughed.

Laura, Wanda and Pepper had all gone to put the three children to bed. One to one – Tony thought the odds were pretty decent he'd be seeing Pepper again sometime before morning.

Nostalgia had started tugging on Tony's leg, and as the level of homemade eggnog lowered in the jars Natasha had stashed in the fridge, the pull got stronger. When conversation fizzled out, he demanded stories, told in turn, of Christmases lost to bygone days.

Clint's had him hooked.

Barton was seated cross-legged on the coffee table. He lifted his cup, muttering, "Didn't think it would come as such a shock."

That was too much for Tony, "You _ran away_ from _an orphanage_ to join _a circus_ , it _worked_ , and you _didn't_ think we'd be _surprised_?"

"Nope."

"He gets along with the rest of us," Banner said, "And we're not…conventional…"

"He's got a point," Wilson said.

Tony eyed him. "Don't help," he decided. He finished the last of his drink.

"You know what?" Rogers said, "Fair enough."

Barton raised his eyebrows, " _I_ thought so."

"What about you, World War Z?" Tony was straddling the arm of the couch kitty-corner to the one occupied by Thor and his brother. Addressing him, Tony kicked his ankle. "You guys've _gotta_ have some interesting stories what with…" he waved his hand vaguely.

Nodding his head, Thor gave a short laugh. "Oh," he craned his head back to look at the ceiling, "where to begin?"

Wilson turned to face them. "Now _this_ I'm interested in."

Lang, who'd taken up residence on a footstool that was nestled between two couches, snuggled down like a kid at storytime with his chin between his fists.

"There was that one night," Loki – unexpectedly – said. "You remember. When Fandral talked us into 'proving our bravery' by sneaking out after the _Julebukk_?"

"Oh yes," Thor laughed. "You know," he lifted his glass, blue eyes flashing over them at his brother, "he never thought we'd do it."

" _I_ ," Loki lifted one finger, snorting a laugh, "knew that."

Chuckling dryly, Clint rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Here we go,"

"Hey," Natasha poked out one foot from where she was curled on the couch beside Banner to nudge him mockingly, "Ease up on the inter-world discrimination, Barton."

"I've been with my _kids_ all day," Barton said. "I'm not really up for multi-lingual conversation right now."

" _Ca doit etre difficile_ ," Tony said.

"Very funny, Stark."

"I thought so." Tony gestured at Thor, "Please continue."

"You see, my friends," Thor said, addressing the room, " _Jolaria_ – our…Halloween – is rather more sacred than yours. It is the night when the Powers of Darkness hold sway. We keep the preceding portion," he partitioned the air in front of him with his hands, "of the _Jol_ in order to ready ourselves for it, and it is not until _Modhranit_ that the balance shifts and the Motherhood of the Dark is shown. And it's not until the _last_ night," he grinned, "the _Nyarsdagur_ , that the balance truly tips in our favor.

"So," sitting back, Thor shook his head. "To be out after dark on _that_ night, is not to be advised. Not that proud young fools don't try it. But it was not a thing even _we_ tried twice."

"Mm," Loki gave his head a slight shake. "Not a thing _you_ tried twice."

Two things Tony had learned throughout the course of the evening about Loki:

One: he liked making conversation when he had a drink in his hand. He was almost _friendly_ , which was…unsettling.

And two: the closer he got to being drunk, the closer he got to _Thor_. And Loki was close indeed, that fine evening. They were practically…snuggling.

"You went out again?" Thor gaped at him, amusement snapping in those electric blue eyes. "Alone? Without telling me?"  
Loki shifted evasively. "The others already thought you worth their time," he muttered.

"How did I not hear of this?"  
"Simple." Loki's smile was a little sharp and Tony got the idea that even in his state of near-intoxication, the former-super villain was regretting his choice to share his experiences. "I didn't tell anyone."

"Didn't that sort of,"

Loki's head swiveled and he frowned suspiciously at the Captain.

Roger's shrugged loosely with his hands, "defeat the purpose?"

Laying back against the couch, Loki snorted. " _I_ knew," he said. He draped one hand languidly across his eyes. "That mattered at the time."

"O- _kay_ ," Tony drawled, interrupting what he felt could easily turn into a property-damaging tiff. "So there's Halloween. Either of you got anything a bit more Christmas-ey? You _have_ heard the rest of our stories, right? There's not…ghouls in ours. Or," he grimaced, "words professors couldn't pronounce. Because P. T. Barnum over there _does_ have a point." Tony gestured at Clint.

"Really, Stark?"

Tony grinned at him.

"I hear you, Bro," Wilson agreed.

Steve glanced over appreciatively. "I _hoped_ it wasn't just me."

"It's _Christmas,_ " Wilson continued."Let's leave out the 'Powers of Darkness.'"

Thor grinned at them, "Of course. If you will but give me a moment…" he stared pensively into his drink.

"Now," Dr. Strange leaned forward as he spoke, "Viking-age mythos was never my field of interest," he said. "But I was under the impression that your father, Odin, was the model for the legends behind 'Santa Claus'."

Loki had slung his legs back towards the floor. Startled, he choked on his drink.

Taking the glass from him, Thor set it on the table.

Tony was a little bit…not at his full capacity. It was the holidays. He'd had enough of Natasha's eggnog and…various other beverages…that everything felt pleasantly warm and a little surreal.

Loki dropped his elbows on his knees and he laughed, coughing as he tried to catch his breath.

Chuckling, Thor patted his back.

Maybe it was something about the eggnog. Tony held it up to inspect it in the light. When the eggnog failed to give up its secrets, Tony found Natasha's eyes and mimed a question.

"Just eggnog," she shrugged.

As he looked at her, it occurred to Tony that hers were the only eyes in the room that were – strictly speaking – clear.

He gestured another question.

Giving a soft little one-sided smirk, Natasha shrugged. "I'm Russian," she said.

Loki had his head in his hand and Thor was laughing at him.

"Is he all right?" Steve asked.

Tony sighed, "That's a _no_ , then?"

"Our father was," Thor searched and finally allowed, "never one for the _Romjol_."

"Never," Loki sat back, catching his breath, "one for the _Romjol_ is the most blatant falsification of the facts that you have _ever_ uttered."

"Well, he wasn't!" Thor protested.

"Do him _justice_ , Thor," Loki said. "All we heard about for _weeks_ before was how deeply he wished it over with."

Thor's mouth twitched. "He wasn't as bad as all that,"

"Wasn't as bad as all…" Loki snorted. "And you say they based your 'Santa Claus' on _him_?"

"So I'd heard," Strange shrugged.

"Krampus maybe," Loki took his drink from Thor, "but never Santa Claus."

Sitting straighter, Lang frowned. "Krampus, as in…the horror film?"

"No, Lang," Loki rolled his eyes. "The demon predecessor _of_ the horror film, dedicated to the slaughter of children whose behavior deteriorated in the wake of the holiday."

"That's…" Tony thought about it, "dark," he decided. "You know? And I can't believe I'm saying this," he reached out to try and kick Loki's leg but he wasn't tall enough to reach and missed. "I like you better when you're drunk."

"Likewise, Stark." Loki said pleasantly.

"Where we at, Point Break?" Tony flicked Thor. "Got anything for me yet?"

"There was a story…" Thor said pensively. "That our mother used to tell us every year after we'd brought in the Tree." Glancing up he asked, "Do you remember it, Brother?"

Loki snorted. "How couldn't I?"

"It was about a girl," Thor said. "Her mother lost in her birthing, and her father away at war. But," he raise one finger, "he had married a beautiful Vana widow before the war, and he had brought both her and her two daughters into his home –"

"Cinderella?" Barton asked incredulously.

Wilson laughed, "Oh I'm gonna enjoy this."

"I…" Thor faltered, "do not know by what name you might call it. You have heard the tale before?"

"I think I might've," Barton said. "Let me guess. Dad dies, step-mom enslaves his daughter, the prince throws a party and step-mom won't let her go. Fairy Godmother shows up with glass slippers –"

"Slippers?" Thor frowned. "No. No, the girl's dead mother, hearing her cries of lamentation,"

Putting one hand over his face, Tony groaned.

"came back from the grave to assist her daughter with certain treasures from the land beyond, treasures that came in the form of three," Thor held up three fingers, "nuts. Each one with a special property."

"Okay," Wilson said, "but that 'special property' helps her to win Prince Charming, right?"

"After attempting first to kill him,"

"That's attractive," Bruce muttered.

"Some people think so," Natasha laughed.

"and then to flee his advances by their merits, but, in the end, yes." Thor said.

"Right." Barton looked like he was trying to digest that. "Little more…yeah," he shook himself. "Still Cinderella." He looked at Scott as if for help. "Right?"

"Sounds like it to me," Lang said. Then he shrugged, folding his arms over his chest. "I mean…kinda. In a Viking-y sort of way."

Thor nodded his head appreciatively. "I had wondered how many of our tales might have travelled this far."

"Why tell it on Christmas?" Natasha asked.

"Ah," Thor said. "Yes. I had forgotten…you mortals," shaking his head, he gave a soft laugh. "The girl lived for some years with the _Jolasveinarnir_ amid the mountains while she fled the prince –"

" _Years_?" Clint asked.

"That's commitment." Sam said.

"And it was his theft of her from their halls that brought the _Jolasveinarnir_ down into the city for the first time. She had become," he opened his hand, "quite dear to them, you understand. By the time the people in the city knew of their coming, it was too late. The _Jolasveinarnir_ can be…quite fierce, if not appeased. But they are also quite stupid, and the girl – after her many years living amongst them – knew this, and having fallen deeply in love with the prince, she did not wish to see their destruction of his people."

"Good for him," Clint muttered.

Lang chuckled.

Sam shook his head, " _Fairy tales_ ," he said. "Gotta love royals, Man."

"It was she," Thor ignored the interruption, "who told the people to lay out food and gifts for the _Jolaveinarnir_. They were so delighted, and so charmed by the images they saw through the lighted windows of the sleeping children that they went back up into the mountains to craft gifts for them in thanks. The story," Thor rubbed his chin with one hand, "goes on to say that the girl and the prince were happily wed, lived long and well, and ruled the people admirably until their deaths. But even until this day, the _Jolasveinarnir_ remember."

He shifted, leaning backward into the couch. "It was Loki's favorite tale, as a child. I do believe it might have been his favorite part of the _Jol_."

Clint turned to Loki, "You didn't strike me as a Cinderella guy."

Tony sputtered a laugh.

Loki flushed a slightly deeper shade of pink.

"Oh come on," Natasha laughed. "It's cute."

"Mm," Loki muttered, "quaint."

Loki, the god of mischief, evil, chaos and lies, was blushing. And Tony took advantage of that fact to stand up, and retrieve that special something he'd found at the gas station that afternoon from its hiding place on the shelf. "Aww," he said. "Is Loki embarrassed?"

One hand pressed the bridge of his nose and Loki did not look up as he said. "Stark, the Ancient Laws of Hospitality dictate I am allowed no violence unless direct harm is threatened my person. Make _one further move toward me_ with that _thing_ and I shall consider it the first move of an aggressor."

"Just _one_ picture?" Tony whined. He let his hand drop from behind his back.

"Stark," Wilson got to his feet, aiming his hands in a finger gun, "put _down_ the antlers."

"All right, all right," Tony dropped the red and green headband. The tiny bells jingled.

"No sudden moves," Lang chimed in.

Tony looked at him. He tipped his hands palm-up. "Do I _ever_ make sudden moves?"

"Get those hands where I can see them, Stark,"

Obligingly, Tony waved both hands at Wilson.

"What's going on?" Pepper asked.

She stood in the doorway, with Laura and Wanda behind her.

"Oh. Good." Tony said. "The girls are here. Get glasses. Those of you who have 'em, fill 'em up. Hey," he snapped his fingers. "Focus up. We're doing a toast."

A few bottles were passed from hand to hand, but when Thor stood up, everyone – up to and not excluding Loki – looked at him.

"Shall we…" Frowning, Thor made a little gesture toward the doorway, "gather in the kitchen?"

" _Nnooo_ ," Tony said. "Thor – after all this time I – and I'm not gonna lie – I'm a little hurt you don't know me better. I keep the _good_ liquor in here. Well," he shrugged. "Here, and in my office. And…the Master Bedroom. And…under the counter in the kitchenette off the Television Room. But mainly here."

Pepper looked at him. "Are you done?"

Tony thought about it a minute. "Yup."

"Yes, friend Stark," Thor gave half a laugh, like they were children playing at some kind of joke. "But not the _toaster_."

"Oh _Thor_ ," Laura put a hand over her mouth.

Not everyone was so discreet.

Thor laughed uncertainly, looking from one of them to another for explanation, "What?"

Loki looked tired. "Thor," he said, "sit down."

"Are we not to…go to the…" Thor gestured vaguely in the direction of the doorway.

"Evidently not," Loki said. He tugged the back of Thor's jacket and, reluctantly, still flummoxed and laughing at their amusement, Thor sat.

Then, Barton and Laura set about explaining to the Thunder god the concept of a toast. It was unclear to Tony if Loki had any better understanding than his brother or if he just kept his mouth shut and his looks of incredulity to himself better than Thor did. Either way, it was entertaining to watch.

"But," Thor laughed, finally, "why, then, is it called a 'toast'?"

Barton blinked several times. He looked at his wife.

"In the seventeenth century," Strange said coolly from his place at the table, "Europeans would often flavor their wine with spiced toast."

Thor's brows came together above his nose. "Why?"

Strange shrugged. He picked at something on his sleeve. He seemed highly tickled by all of this. "The name may have come from the idea that all of the wine was to be consumed in the gesture, all the way to the bottom of the glass, and, thus, the toast."

No one said anything.

"Perhaps," Strange continued, "the custom was a vestige of the old tradition of _libation to the gods_ – where wine was poured out onto the earth or into the sea for the gods to accept it,"

Tony had a brief and poignant vision of a Grecian statue standing over a pool of spilled Scotch with a solemn look on its marble face and a hand extended in supplication.

"altered – as customs will be with time and culture – to the new age of 'rationality' and 'science' by the consumption of the beverage."

If the statue could speak, Tony was certain it would be wondering who in his right mind had come into his house and poured perfectly good Scotch on his floor, and who was going to clean it up, because he was _not_ going to drink it out of the carpet.

He'd had his dark days, but never had Tony Stark been desperate enough to lap Scotch off of the floor.

He realized that Strange had stopped talking.

He pretended to snore. Then shook himself upright. "Good lecture, professor. Let's drink."

Raising her glass, Pepper smiled. She looked to him expectantly.

"To…holidays," Tony shrugged. "Past and future and…" he glanced at Thor, "weird. And to friends, likewise."

"To family." Rogers smiled.

"Yeah,' Tony grumbled. "That." He thrust his glass into the air. "To the Avengers!"

Glasses clinked. Toasts were drunk.

As he lowered his glass, Tony looked over the room – the soft Christmas music, the warm light, the murmur of voices. "This is _us_ , guys," he said.

Pepper put one hand against his chest.

It was a silent plea, but Tony ignored that. "This is us," he repeated. "Nobody else is responsible for this. Not me," he pointed at Loki, "not you. Not even Nick Fury himself! This is all us. SHIELD has nothing on this,"

Wilson started clapping.

"And I _dare_ Nick Fury to come up with a better party than this!"

Which impromptu speech was met with wider applause.

"Very nice," Pepper patted his shoulder, "Very nice. You done?"

"Yeah," he shrugged.

She looked tense.

"What?"

"Nothing," she said. "Later."

"Nothing is…not the same as later…"

Pepper wasn't listening to him.

Tony turned his attention elsewhere.

"But," Thor was saying to a very focused Barton, " _is_ his name _truly_ 'fury'? What kind of coincidence would that be?"

Loki's brow quirked curiously.

"Okay," Lang said, leaning in, "I follow…"

Wilson frowned, "What do you think his name _is_?" he asked. "You can't just float an accusation like that without a suggestion."

Standing beside Barton, under his arm, Laura was laughing. The white wine in her glass caught the tones of the Christmas lights above her.

"How do we know," Thor proposed. "That his name's not 'furry'?"

"For the love of…" Loki fell back against the couch, smearing a hand down his face.

"You gotta be kidding me, Man!" Wilson laughed.

Laura giggled.

Lang blinked, then raised one hand, palm-up in a helpless sort of gesture.

"Well?" Thor grinned. "How do we _know_?"

"I give up." Barton said. "We don't."

Tony shook his head. "Hey, Pep," he said. "On a scale of One to Thor, how serious do you think Thor's being?"

"I don't know," Pepper half-turned from her conversation. "Why don't you go ask?"

"Well," Tony smirked. "I just might."

 **II.**

In retrospect, perhaps a night when everyone had been a bit more sober would have been a more prudent choice. But, in their defense, Thor was leaving in the morning, and after _Gremlins_ Pepper was not allowing anything even remotely questionable to cross the television screen.

Since the film was in black and white, Tony thought it might be old enough for the Capsicle to remember it.

But no. Strange informed them all that the movie had not come out until 1946. Laura laughed at him for knowing that off the top of his head. Strange only smiled and shrugged. Tony could understand why Loki hated the guy. He was a font of useless knowledge.

(Seriously, who needed to know how to identify 243 distinct types of tobacco ash?)

So, the film was a couple of years too late to be memorable, but, close enough to be nostalgic. Tony had seen it, once, as a child. His father wouldn't watch past the first ten minutes, so he'd had to see it, just to one-up the old man. He'd nearly decided to leave ten minutes in too, afraid he'd die of boredom before the final credits. But, he decided, what the heck. Christmas was a time for second chances.

 _It's a Wonderful Life_ was a more powerful film than Tony's twelve-year-old self had given it credit for.

Manly tears were shed by all.

 **Now, keeping your favorite heroes in mind, go watch** _ **It's a Wonderful Life**_ **and tell me you don't laugh your ass off. Ten minutes in, I can just see a drunk Thor bawling his eyes out and hugging Loki.**

 ** _Cinderella_ wasn't an entirely random choice. When I was trying to 'build' what and Asgardian Yuletide celebration might look like, I researched both ancient customs, and common ones from north western Europe. One thing that came up a surprising number of times (on Wikepedia, so, maybe its true, maybe its not. I don't have any European associates) was the story Thor told. I think it was called 'The Three Nuts' or something like that. The addition of the mountain trolls was mine, because I had to make the story pertinent to the rest of the celebration. **

**Happy day-after Thanksgiving to all of my American friends! And – like I said at the beginning of the chapter – I'll be getting back to all of you soon with the next chapters.**

 **(Most of my favorite moments are coming up! There's more one-on-one, more character-driven stuff, some growth, less group chat. Lots more Loki.)**

 **Happy Holidays, one and all ;)**


	15. Blue Christmas

**I'm back ;) Didn't think I was gonna do it, did you?**

 **I.**

Thor inhaled.

Behind his back, Loki's hands closed into fists.

For what might have been the millionth time that morning, Thor started, "You're _certain_ you –"

"Yes." Loki all-but spat. He spun on his heel and started pacing in the opposite direction. He'd wanted to spend these last few moments before Thor's departure with his brother. His – undeniably _reasonable_ – rationale, being that he would have the next week to further associate with the Avengers.

He had somehow neglected, however, to anticipate Thor's pestering.

"I'm certain."

 _Somehow_ , Thor managed to remain unflustered. "There's no need for you to become angry, Brother," he said, "It was only –"

"Only _what_?" Loki snapped. "Only that I cannot look after myself? Only that I orbit you like a moon and without you I will fall into nothing? Or is it that you fear what I might do to these _heroes_ after you've left me unattended?"

Thor glanced at him. He shrugged quietly with his hands. "Only that it was _I_ who had brought you to this place. Against your will. Do not think, Loki," he said, with the barest hint of a smile as he rubbed he chin, "that I don't know we've only stayed this long because you've allowed it. I did not intend to leave you here alone."

Shame pricked under Loki's skin and he turned away from his brother, walking alongside the edges of the windows. "I'm far from alone," he allowed, finally. Tracing one finger along the cool, steady glass, he grimaced. " _Alone_ might actually be a preferable state."

"No," Thor laughed, "I'll never hear the end of it if you vanish. Stark will be _certain_ you're up to something."

Loki took his hand from the window. His mouth pressed a thin, involuntary line. "He's already certain of that."

"Well," Thor said from his place on the bed. "Then he'd be _more_ certain." He was on Loki's right, shoving what Midgardian clothes he had into a bag. Loki didn't turn to face him but kept his face to the glass.

Irritated, still, he folded his arms. "Look at you," he said, a touch peevishly, "fretting like Mother. Worry not. I'll be sure to wear a coat if I go outside and say 'please' and 'thank you' like a good boy."

The breath Thor released was obviously annoyed. " _What_ has gotten into you?" he asked. "You tell me to go and then you act like –"

"Like _what_?" Loki challenged. He could just make out the traces of his own reflection on the glass, the way his eyes narrowed.

"As soon as I show _any_ ," Thor answered, "sign of interest in another person, you do _everything_ in your power to sully it."

Stung, Loki faced him.

"Can I _not_ have friends _besides_ you, Loki?" Thor demanded. "It's not as though you make yourself easy company. Must _every_ relationship I have be… _poisoned_ by your jealousy?"

" _My_ jealousy?" anger thrummed electrically in Loki's blood. "My jealousy?" he laughed. "For whom? These _heroes_? Your Foster-woman?"

"Her _name_ ," Thor's eyes sparked threateningly, "is _Jane_."

Loki ignored him with a little tip of his head and a smirk. "I thought you had better regard for me than _that_."

"And _I_ thought they were your friends as well." Thor said. "I thought I'd seen progress. When you told me to overcome my quarrel with Stark – which was begun in _your_ defense," Thor jabbed one finger at him, "I thought it might be that you had begun to be here of your own accord and not simply for my sake alone."

"Oh _yes_ ," Loki folded his arms, "the pitying glances and constant inquiries about my joy certainly leant themselves to that idea."

"You think I ask out of _pity_?" Thor exclaimed. "I cannot – Don't you understand that I cannot _see_ what passes through your mind? I never have! I ask that I may _know_. And only because of your pride that will not allow you to speak even _when_ I've asked!"

" _You_ ," Loki's skin flushed hot, "would lecture _me_ on pride?"

Thor took a steadying breath. "I am not as I was," he allowed. "I learned humility in my time from home."

"You mean your banishment?"

"Yes Loki _my banishment_. I had thought in these past few years you might have learned the same."

"So much thought," Loki said petulantly, turning back to the window. "All this time and I never knew. I'm impressed."

"I would rather you'd done some _thinking_ of your own."

The floor creaked as Thor came across it. "You spurn my disquiet as a show of pity?" he asked. His voice was softer, but it growled with a low menace that Loki knew better than to ignore. "What of your patient endurance here?" Thor asked, "I require your pity little as you do mine."

Loki jerked out from under Thor's hand and snarled, "I don't remain for _you_."

"Then for what?" Thor demanded. "You've made it very plain that you bide here not for friendship with _any_ other. No, Loki. You demand _my_ attentions and would have _me_ see how patiently you endure the great sufferings I ask of you as any smitten maid!"

"You accept pity well-enough from the others!" Loki snapped. "You think they welcomed me here for my own sake? They took me in only because they were afraid to crush your delicate superiority!"

"They accepted you," Thor took both of his shoulders, "for yourself."

Pushing him off Loki stepped back, "You cannot _honestly_ believe –"

"How would you know?" Thor demanded. "Have you spent _any_ time among them? Have you _spoken_ with _any_ of them?"

"I _don't have to_ –"

Thor flung out one arm, "Because you're _so sure_ you already know!"

"Have you forgotten _everything_?" Loki shouted. "Have you forgotten how you _came together_? Have you forgotten _all_ I've _killed_?"  
"Have _you_ forgotten _everything else_?"

Lost for words sure enough to argue with Thor's naïveté, Loki only looked at him for a long moment. And as he did it his anger cooled, and settled, and died.

Thor saw it and took a great step towards him. "All the good you have done, Brother," he started.

Loki shook his head. Folding his arms across his chest, he looked out the window.

"The lives you have _saved_ ," Thor insisted. "They have wiped away the guilt of your past."

Loki rubbed one hand down his face. "Such platitudes, Brother," he said, softly, "it's touching."

" _You_ say." Thor said from behind him. "Why not allow them the chance?"

Loki gave a short, bitter laugh, "Besides the fact that it makes no difference?"

"I speak only for your welfare, Brother –"

Loki's jaw shut. "Have I _ever_ been wrong before?" he asked. He closed his eyes.

Thor didn't answer him right away.

After a moment's silence, Loki turned to face him.

Thor was sitting on the coffee table, looking at his hands. Weariness was settled over his shoulders and it matched the weariness Loki felt to the very marrow of his bones.

" _Have_ I?" he asked again, barely above a whisper.

"I would stay." Thor offered.

Caught off-guard, Loki faltered. "What?"

"If it would help you to know that you are not alone. If it would help you," Thor shrugged, softly, "to know that I was here…I could explain everything to Jane," he offered, glancing up. "She'd understand –"

Cold with the dust of the grave, the anger he'd so recently abandoned nearly choked him. "Get out," he demanded.

Thor sighed. " _Brother_ ,"

Loki's frustration had coalesced to something deadly and soft in his chest. "I will not speak to you anymore," he said, low and fast. "And if you would not see your all-too-mortal friends _harmed_ in your absence," his fingers bit into his forearms, "you would do well to take your leave _now_."

Reflected in the glass, Loki saw Thor open his mouth. But then he thought better of it.

He got to his feet. He took his satchel. He opened the door and, without glancing behind him, he left by it.

Loki did not turn to see him go. He stood, eyes fixed on the pane of glass before him until the door had shut. Then and only then did he let the tension out of his shoulders. Wearily, he closed his eyes.

He wished that Thor had slammed the door behind him as he'd gone.

 **II.**

"Oh woah, hey now," nursing his coffee, Tony did what little he could to dance out of Thor's way.

Thor had his head down. His face was dark, and he was making a beeline for the door. A palpable energy floated around him like a storm cloud. It tickled Tony's nose and made the hair stand up all along his arms and on the back of his neck.

Thor strode past them like they weren't there and went out onto the landing.

Tony and Rhodey shared a look.

"Oh, that can't be good," Rhodey said.

"Nope." Tony swallowed the last of his drink. "Better wish the old boy luck."

As he turned Rhodey caught at his arm. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"I'd be more concerned about the _other_ Viking Deity in residence. Where there's one, there's two and where Thor looks like that…" Tony rubbed his hands. "Thor's mostly harmless, unless you're a creature of the Pop Tart variety."

Tony left Rhodey in the house, and he went out onto the landing pad after Thor.

Thor stood of the end of it, looking up and the grey sky.

Tony sauntered out after him, shoving his hands inside his pockets. "Goodbyes went about as well as usual?"

The quip failed to earn a grin, but since he wasn't toast yet, Tony assumed it had gone some way towards soothing the big guy.

"I ought not let him bait me." Thor said.

"Eh," Tony shrugged, stopping next to him. "Happens to the best of us, Buddy."

"But _I_ ," Thor gave him a little smile, "should know better."

"My advice?" Tony said, meeting his blue eyes squarely. "Don't beat yourself up about it. Go on, air yourself out. You can try talking about…whatever it was you two are currently fighting about, with a clearer head when you're done. He'll be here waiting for you when you get back."

Thor only looked at him.

"Scout's honor." Tony promised. Then he shrugged, honesty seeping out under the pressure of Thor's gaze. "Not that I _was_ one. Not really my speed. But the…" he shoved his hands back in his pockets. "The sentiment…is in effect."

Thor nodded his head. Looking away from Tony, he took a deep inhale. "That's rather what I'm afraid of."

Then Thor swung his hammer, and he was off into the cold, grey sky, leaving Tony without answers, singing _God Rest ye Merry Gentlemen_ softly to himself on his landing deck, without a coat, in the early morning of a December day, one week before Christmas.

… _ti-dings of co-o-mfort and joy-_

 _Comfort and joy-_

 _Oh-oh! Ti-i-dings of co-o-mfort and joy._

The sliding glass door squeaked and Rhodey poked his head out. "You gonna come in?"

"Yeah. Right. In," Tony said. Walking back towards the door, Tony shuddered. "It's cold out there."

"Yeah. I'd noticed."

"Oh," Tony rubbed down the hair that was still standing straight at the base of his neck, "on the plus-side I think I've figured out why Loki wears his hair like Vincent Vega."

Rhodey breathed half a laugh, "Give it a rest, Tones."

 **III.**

Contrary to Tony's more _dubious_ expectations, the resident Elephant-in-the-Room did not so much as make a peep all day. Seriously. Tony didn't think he left Little Asgard even to _eat_.

Not that Tony thought about Loki much throughout the day. He just had Friday monitoring movement in the Tower while they were out and checked it periodically. To the point that Pepper told him to put the phone away.

It was a busy morning.

Carriage rides in Central Park were not to be passed up.

Selfies with the obliging horses were not to be forgotten – by Steven Rogers and Natasha Romanoff no less. Further proof that December was the season for miracles.

Department stores had to be visited.

Cookies had to be both eaten and baked.

Carols had to be sung and there were twenty-seven trees left to be decorated.

It was Stark policy that the Barton children – and everyone else – had to be exhausted.

Even _Wanda_ participated – which was a new development. She carried around Barton's baby and followed Laura with him on her hip. Clint watched them like the proud papa he was.

Tony hadn't known what a monster he'd spawned by bringing that harmless little band of carolers into the Tower two days ago until late that evening. As Pepper told him eloquently with one of her _looks_ , he should have known better. Word had spread through the grapevine and – although the Avengers had been given a day-long respite from the visitors, they more than made up for it that evening, one week before Christmas.

The team rose to the occasion with grace – for the most part.

After Friday told him that there were carolers at the door a fourth time, Tony started seriously regretting that let's-invite-them-in-and-see-what-happens stunt.

"Friday," he said, smearing his hand down his face. "Let's change protocol to 'I'm _never_ home.'"

"Too late, Boss," she said. "Incoming."

It was Laura who pointed out, after dinner was cleaned up but before the kids were in bed, that there had not been a Loki-sighting all day, by anybody, since Thor left.

"Maybe I should go check on him," Pepper said. "See if he wants something to eat…"

"Are you kidding me?" Tony picked at the bowl of crackers. "He's having a royal sulk and I, for one, would rather have him work that out of his system _in there_. You remember what happened last time?"

Pepper sighed. "Tony,"

"Don't you 'Tony' me," Tony pushed the cracker bowl farther away from him. "I need to stop eating these. It's ruining my figure. _So_ he didn't get hugged enough as a child. He knows where the food's at."

"Hey," Friday's voice said. "Boss…?"

"Son of a –"

Pepper _looked_ at him.

"Bandersnatch. Look," he said. "I _said_ I was sorry. What more can I do?"

"You can _start_ ," she said. "By getting the door." She gave him a little smile. "I'm going upstairs."

 **IV.**

Pausing for a moment, Pepper decided that she'd come this far, and she knocked on the door. She'd lived with Tony for years. Dealing with anyone else's moods was unlikely to be as trying.

Loki's voice came from within after a beat too long. She guessed that he was surprised. "…Yes?"

"It's just me," she said, "I was –"

The door opened abruptly and Loki stood within it.

Pepper fell back a little, startled.

Loki said nothing, watching her with his unsettling green eyes, and, gathering her breath Pepper remembered herself. "I was wondering if you wanted anything," she finished.

He looked at her for one moment, then gave a small, polite smile. "Nothing at the moment," he said, just barely inclining his head, "Though I thank you for your, kind, consideration."

Something about his manner was, _off_ , and Pepper changed her mind twice before opening her mouth to ask, "Do you mind if I come in for a minute? I wouldn't ask," she explained herself hurriedly, "but Tony's entertaining…guests again," her corporate executive kicked in and she gave a harassed attempt at a chuckle, "and if I have to answer any more questions I'm going to _scream_."

Loki's mouth twisted a little to one side. He stepped back, mutely allowing her entrance to the room.

"Thanks," she said. She came past him, glancing around at all the clean lines and smooth surfaces. She rarely ventured to this floor, but it didn't seem like the Odinsons had done much to personalize.

The door clicked shut behind her, and for one flustered heartbeat Pepper thought she'd made a mistake. She liked to think that – with all her experience living in this new and more frightening world that had existed ever since "I am Iron Man" – she had developed good instincts. And her gut feeling assured her, not only that she was safe, but that she was doing the right thing.

"Does that make five today?" Loki asked.

Turning to face him as he let go of the doorknob, Pepper smiled wryly. "Do we make that much noise?"

Delicately, he said, "Groups of children generally do." He was trying not to look at her, and he did not move far from the door.

Thinking that was odd, Pepper decided that a show of trust was not out of place, and she turned away from him to look down at the street. The light inside the room was low, and it was remarkably light outside still, so she could barely see her reflection in the glass. She glanced out. The lights were flickering on all up and down the busy road. "Are you sure there's nothing you want? You're not hungry?" she asked. She'd already guessed that he had not been expecting anyone. She wondered if he might be afraid to threaten her. Maybe Tony's aggression the other day had effected Loki more than the god wanted to let on. "Tony said that you haven't been off the floor all day," she mused.

Immediately, she regretted it, and she straightened to face him.

Loki's eyes had lifted and he was watching her intently, his expression suddenly drawn. "He's monitoring me?"

"Nothing like that," Pepper promised. "I – I didn't mean it like that. He saw how upset Thor was when he left and he- we thought you might appreciate some privacy. He – we – _all_ – want to make sure you're taking care of yourself," she finally made herself stop. She knew, for all her good intentions, she'd only made things worse. Chagrined, she folded her hands.

But Loki surprised her. Quietly, he moved to the light, and he brightened it, for her, she realized. "I understand," he said softly.

His manner was so different from that she'd seen around the others that she fumbled a little, and without realizing it, she took a step towards him. "You're welcome to join us whenever you want to," she offered. "We'd – we'd like to see you."

His mouth quirked up in one corner as he went to turn up the other light. "I'm sure you would," he murmured.

"I'm – Loki," Pepper covered her face with both hands, then let them drop, "I didn't mean it like that."

From the far side of the room, Loki watched her.

It occurred to Pepper that he was like a cat, scrutinizing an unfamiliar person. With that in mind, she raised her chin and she let him see her. She meant him no harm. She had no trick.

He dropped his gaze after no more than a moment. "No, I," he said, in that same, soft voice, "I don't think you did. I apologize. You've been an admirable hostess, and you deserve better than my assumptions."

"It's no…" she shook her head. Loki and his brother had more ability to fluster her than any one besides Tony. Though with the Odinsons it was due to their manners. She never knew how she ought to respond to them, "It's no trouble," she said, finally.

Loki did not seem reassured.

Pepper felt that she'd made things incalculably worse. Floundering, she searched her surroundings for something _non-_ incendiary to distract _both_ of them from her bumbling, and she finally noticed the book he must have only just laid aside.

"What are you reading?" she asked, curiously.

"Currently it's _Crime and Punishment._ It's by –"

She looked at him. "Dostoevsky?"

Loki blinked. "Have you…" Shaking his head he cleared his throat and amended his tone to something less startled, "Have you read it?"

"It's one of my favorite books. What do you think of it? Do you," Pepper gestured to a chair, "Do you mind if I sit?"  
Loki was watching her with an odd look on his face, "Not at all," he said.

Slowly, he came and he took a seat nearby.

Pepper crossed her ankles. "Tony has no respect for literature," she said, "So I never get a chance to talk to anyone about the books I love. I didn't – I didn't think you'd have read any of…" struggling for the right words, she smiled at him, " _our_ books."

It was possible that the look he gave her was slightly more than a contrived smile. "When in Rome…" he shrugged, "as they say."

Paging through the volume, Pepper wondered that a book could feel so familiar. Then she paused and looked closer, "Is this…Russian?"  
"I prefer to read in the original language," Loki said off-handedly. "Much is lost in even the most talented translation. Isn't," he stopped, and when she glanced up, she saw that he had a resigned look on his face, as though he'd only just realized a somewhat amusing joke he'd unwittingly sprung on himself. "That is unusual, isn't it."

It was Pepper's turn to blink at him in undisguised confusion. Then, straightening her skirt, she laughed. "No," she glanced at him, "It's not. I…don't speak a _word_ of Russian. Do you…Do you read many languages?"

He gave a slight smile. "I had an expensive education."

" _Wow_. Well, I guess _time_ really wasn't much of a problem."

"No," he smiled. "I can't say that it was."

Pepper gave a breathless laugh. She was actually doing this. She was having what equated to a _book club meeting_ with _Loki_ – the guy who had nearly killed Tony and almost leveled New York City. It was such an odd feeling. So much had happened since. Shaking her head, she glanced at him. Undeniably, he was more relaxed than he had been when she first walked in. She realized with a little jolt that _he wanted her there_. And not for any nefarious purpose. His brother had left, he was lonely _and he was letting her help_.

Swallowing a grin that she did not want to explain to him, she set the book aside. "Tell me how far you've gotten," she said. "Did you meet Porfiry yet?"

* * *

 **Believe it or not, I've never been a huge Pepper fan. She's just sort of crept into this narrative and staked out a claim. That last scene wasn't even supposed to happen. It just came as I was editing. So here it is. Hope you like it.**

 **Before anybody asks, there's no special significance to Loki's reading _Crime and Punishment_. I just thought it was a classic, with enough depth and little enough fluff that Loki might voluntarily choose to read it. For whatever reason, Pepper likes it to. I guess that happened because it gives them something to bond over. Thor doesn't appreciate the classics either. **

**This chapter was one of my favorites to write. I don't know if I'm any good at writing arguments, but I LOVE doing it. And I have the audacity to force others to read the results X)**

 **I hope you all enjoyed it. Lord willing, I should have another chapter up ...Friday? We'll see.**


	16. God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

**I've got a longer one for you this time ;)**

 **I still think it could use more editing...,but oh well. Time is never ideal.**

 **I hope you enjoy.**

 **I.**

Tony woke with a gasp from a dream of falling. The boiling edges of the portal were closing in on him and he only just fell through into the warmth of Earth's atmosphere.

Before he could collide with the planet, he woke.

Pepper was not in bed beside him.

Glancing at the glowing digital display on the night-table, he found it was already eight in the morning. Belatedly, dropping his head back on the pillow, he remembered that she had told him last night that she was planning on going back in to the office for the morning. She wouldn't be back until afternoon.

Breathing out, Tony smeared a hand down his face.

Then he got out of bed.

When he came to what had become the favored common floor, he found Steve with his elbows on the table, the paper spread in front of him and a mug of coffee steaming by his hand. Strange sat on a bar stool by the window – probably drinking tea…out of a cup Tony did not recognize. He was reading some ancient-looking tome. Loki – who had, _apparently_ , decided to grace them with his presence – was sitting cross-legged on an armchair on one side of the room, reading a book. Natasha was in the other armchair, curled up, _also_ with a book on her knees and a steaming cup in her hands.

Since when did everyone in this Tower like to _read_?

Surveying the four of them, Tony groggily ran calculations as he wondered how many world-endangering altercations had been circumvented by the fact that Captain America had gotten into the habit of waking up early.

Natasha turned a page. The candy-cane stuck jauntily out of her cup clinked against the rim.

Re-assessing, Tony concluded that it was _her_ fault the world was still spinning. Captain America would get up-in-arms to preserve the peace. The Black Widow would spin her webs until even the Lord of Lies forgot he wanted a tussle.

"Huh." Tony gave a little nod.

"Morning Tony," Steve said without looking up.

"…Morning." Tony responded.

Quiet, inoffensive Christmas music hummed in the background. Tony walked backward to slip behind the bar and pour himself a coffee.

And there was a smell...

He set the cup down on the counter. "You lit a _candle_?"

Natasha flicked her eyes above the edge of her book. Her brow quirked mockingly. "What?" she asked, "Did you have _other_ plans for it?"

Coming back around the bar he sipped his coffee and started to feel a little more human. "Touché. Smells nice. So," he rested his arms on the back of her chair, making her crane her neck to look up at him. "What's the plan?"

Natasha closed her finger in her book.

 _A Christmas Carol_ , Tony noticed.

"You're asking _me_?"

"Yeah, you, Mrs. Claus," he answered. "Good read, by the way."

A frown flickered on her forehead, "You've read it?"

"No. Plans. Spill." He sipped his coffee, "No judgement."

She breathed a soft chuckle. "Oh I don't know," she said. "I think _you'll_ have to keep up the circus for your youngest invitees on your own today."

Sagging against the back of her chair, Tony groaned.

Settling down, Natasha sipped her hot chocolate. "Don't like it, don't start it," she quipped. Glancing across the room she said, "Loki's taking _me_ out."

Tony choked on his coffee. "I'm sorry," he coughed, "I _thought_ my hearing was up to snuff, must be the suit..."

Loki looked up from his book. "I'm doing _what_?"

"He owes me a favor," Natasha smirked up at Tony, completely ignoring her date. "And I want somebody to take me ice skating." Innocently, she sipped her drink.

Admiring her brass, Tony just looked at her for a moment while Loki spluttered. Raising his eyebrows, Tony started, "There are about a million other –"

"Is there _no one else_ you feel the need to put through _that_?" Loki demanded.

Tony stopped, looking distractedly from Loki to Natasha. "What he said."

From across the room, Strange chuckled. "You two are bonding already."

Tony's head swiveled and the look on Loki's face summed up exactly what he himself was feeling. It was an unpleasant mixture of surprise and disgust that did _not_ blend well with morning coffee and slight hangovers.

" _Ooo_ -kay." Tony took one step further away.

"Loki's taking me ice skating today," her eyes dropping to meet the Trickster's, Natasha took a delicate sip of her chocolate, "or our deal's off."

Tony's arms dropped, "Wait, what deal?"

Loki met Natasha, look for look. " _Oh_ ," he breathed, "you're going to have to come up with something _far_ better than _that_."

" _What_ deal?" Tony asked.

"Tony…" Cap warned.

Tony scowled at his coffee. "Nobody tells me anything," he muttered.

Meanwhile Natasha was unfolding from the chair. "Vengeance is sweet, Loki," she said. "You know that as well as I do."

Tony watched her as she left, and marveled.

"Huge fan," he said, to no one in particular. He turned back into the room, "I'm a huge fan of her work. Glad it's not _on_ me, though. I don't envy _you_ ," he gestured with his mug towards Loki.

Loki was still staring at the place she had been, his face very blank, and very hard.

Without looking up from the paper, Rogers told the former super-villain conciliatorily, "No one would blame you for backing down."

"I've heard that tone before," Strange agreed from his place by the window. He sipped his tea. "Probably best just to do as she wants."

Steve glanced up, "And I've worked with _her_ ," his mouth twitched, "closely. I wouldn't want to cross her, god or no."

Slowly, Loki closed his eyes.

Cradling his coffee, Tony laughed. "That's what you get for crawling out of your lair, huh Stripe?"

Loki didn't _quite_ catch back a snort that _might_ have been a laugh before snapping his book shut with one hand and rising smoothly to his feet. "Shut up, Stark."

 **II.**

Loki took the elevator.

He didn't take it anywhere specific, he only took it.

"…Anywhere you're looking to go?" Friday's spectral voice asked him at length. "Little Asgard is the top button on the left, or I can remotely activate the elevator to take you anywhere you like."

"Take me somewhere people _aren't_."

There was a slight pause before the AI adjusted. "Sure thing," she chirped.

He ended up on some floor below the private quarters reserved to the members of the team and above the rooms they'd taken as a group to frequenting. It was an odd, in-between place, which Loki wryly felt was fitting.

He found a chair in the back corner, surrounded by windows, and he summoned his copy of _Crime and Punishment_. Paging through it, he recalled the animated way Pepper's hands had moved as she spoke to the books greater themes. Setting that aside, he bent his mind to the words themselves, stringing them together into sentences and those into thoughts.

He'd managed – almost – to distract himself from consideration of the coming ordeal when out of the tail of his eye he noticed movement by the door.

Assessing without lifting his head he caught the flash of a braid and a pink sleeve. It was the Hawk's young daughter. Oddly enough, she'd taken a fancy to him. He didn't understand why. But it seemed to make Clint imprecisely uncomfortable, which Loki found amusing.

What he did not find amusing, was how she continued to taunt him, peering around the doorframe just long enough to catch a glimpse of him, then darting back as if he might not have observed her.

Finally, after the fourth or fifth time, without looking up from his book, Loki said, "I can see you."

On the far side of the wall, the quivering motion of the houseplant that half-obscured her stopped trembling.

Loki's hand fisted, and released.

Within a moment, the tiny creature was standing beside him, looking up at him as though he were the most novel thing she had ever laid her big brown eyes on.

Loki ignored her.

"Do you want to play dolls with me?" she whispered.

Loki turned a page. "Do I look like I want to play dolls?"

Turning her head, Lila eyed the door.

Having second-thoughts, Loki hoped.

Then she looked back at him. "I like hide-and-seek. Do you want to play hide-and-seek?"

Loki weighed the pros and cons of ignoring her. "No," he decided, finally.

Unperturbed, she blinked her big eyes. "Wanna go eat some cookies?"

Loki did not look up. "I do not."

Lila looked at him. She looked at the open pages of the book. "That's made up writing."

"No."

"Yes it is. Real writing doesn't look like that."

For the first time Loki glanced at her. "It's Russian."

Her head tipped on one side. Then, softly, she looked at the page. "Oh…" She bounced restlessly on her toes. "Don't you like cookies?"

Loki studied his page. "I don't care."

"Well, then why don't you want one?"

Loki slid a finger into his book and looked at her. He didn't say anything.

Neither did Lila.

They just looked at each other.

…Which exercise, was not going as Loki had hoped. His mouth pressed a thin, somewhat provoked line.

Lila's little head tipped to one side. "You have a scary face," she told him, officially.

" _You_ have a scary face," he sulked.

Of all responses, she _giggled_. "Yours is scarier."

He leaned forward. "Then why aren't you afraid?"

"'Cause I _like_ you." She flopped against his leg.

"What _on Earth_ could have made you do that?" Loki drew his leg aside and the girl tripped.

Sticking against him like a wet plant, Lila giggled. "You're funny."

"Mm." Loki decided. "This is uncalled for. Go play."

Lila pouted. "But I'm bored."

"Good." Loki said. "Do that elsewhere."

She flopped. "There's nowhere else _to go_!"

Again, Loki shut his book. He looked at Lila. "You can't be serious," he told her. He lifted one hand. "You have this entire tower as your playground. And you think to tell me that this is the one place for you."

In total disregard of his tone, she was smiling at him, leaning on his knee. "I want to play with _you_ ," she cooed.

"Well," Loki smiled thinly. "I'm sure there are scores of people who reciprocate that feeling." He opened his book. "Why don't you go find them."

"Cooper's dumb." Lila told him after it became clear he intended to read.

"Surprise, surprise." Loki drawled. Her expression was downcast, but Loki was not letting her worm her way into any more of his attention than she had already drawn out of him. He kicked the foot of the leg she was leaning on. "Off."

"He only wants to play with everybody _else_ and make cookies…" Lila pouted. Forlornly, she gazed towards the window, "… _again_."

Loki didn't answer.

Lila gave a short sigh. Then she squared back to face him. "What's your favorite color?"

Pressing his lips thin, Loki looked at her.

"Okay. I guessed that. What's your favorite animal? Maybe…" she thought about it. "Squid?"

He exhaled a long breath through his nose, and closed his eyes. He looked toward the door, wondering if he ought to summon Friday to call someone to take her away, or if he should merely deposit her on a habited floor without explanation.

"What's your –"

Abruptly, Loki shut the book, laid it aside, and before she could finish the sentence he had snatched her by the ribs and put her onto his lap. He clamped one hand over her mouth.

Wide-eyed over the edge of his hand, she looked at him.

"I will play," he held up one finger, " _one_ game with you. And then you will go away. Permanently. You will not trouble me again. Do you understand?"

Lila nodded her head.

"Good." Releasing her, Loki pushed her onto the floor. "Hide-and-seek. Go."

Snapping his fingers, he disappeared.

 **III.**

"Friday?" Natasha asked. "I'm looking for Loki. Any idea where he is?"

"Yeah, he's on floor nineteen. I think he's…looking?"

"Looking?" Natasha frowned, "Looking for what?"

"I can't tell," the AI admitted. "I haven't got a very good view of what's happening in there right now."

Natasha could guess why. Loki had fiddled with Friday's setting before. Sometimes it was harmless, other times… Pressing her lips together, Natasha lengthened her stride.

She approached the room, her steps light enough to be ignored, her stance betraying nothing of her misgiving. She paused behind the edge of the doorway.

He was counting.

Natasha frowned.

Peering round the corner, Natasha saw him sprawled in the armchair that stood on the far side of the room, with the upper half of his face languidly obscured by one hand.

"Ready or not…" he said.

Natasha saw little fingers curl into the fabric on his shoulders.

Natasha, was surprised.

Slowly, giving an aggravated sigh, Loki drew himself up and out of the chair, dragging his squirming passenger up with him as though in perfect ignorance of her presence. Lila gave a stifled giggle as her feet dug into his ribs. Natasha thought that had to hurt, but if it did, Loki gave no sign.

Muttering to himself, Loki tipped the chair back, looking behind it. He nearly toppled a plant in the corner. He shifted one of Pepper's paintings to look behind it.

Watching in suspended wonder, Natasha smiled.

Just as Lila's grip on his shoulders was about to slide, he knelt down to peer under the coffee table.

"So," Natasha breathed, too quiet for him to hear her, "you _do_ have a heart." Her eyes sparkled. "No wonder you jammed Friday's visual," she smiled to herself, "Sam would _kill_ for this."

Inside the room, Lila dropped onto the floor. "Here I am!" she shouted.

Loki whirled. Appraising her, his chin tipped just higher. "So you are."

"I was invisible!" Lila crowed.

"Ah." Loki got to his feet. "In that case, you're lying." He took his old place on the armchair. "Humans can't do that."

"Well," Lila put fisted hands on her hips. " _I_ can. And so can you."

Loki smiled derisively, "I'm not human."

"Well," she huffed. " _I_ can turn invisible."

"Um-hm." Loki picked up the book that had sat on the table beside him. "Pretty words."

"I can _prove_ it!" Lila demanded.

His eyes flicked up at her. " _Can_ you?"

"Shut your eyes."

Loki looked at her dryly, then gave a tolerant sigh and set his book aside. Lazily, he put a hand over his face. "Very well."

"No peeking!"

He made a careless gesture with his hand on the arm of the chair. "On my honor," he smirked.

Stifling a giggle, Lila made a bolt for the back of his chair. "Ta-da!" she shouted.

Loki let his hand drop. Natasha pulled back behind the wall to avoid his scrutiny.

"No," she heard him say. "I can still see you."

"No you can't!"

"Yes," he said, "I can. Behind that plant. You're half-showing."

Lila giggled. "I'm not _behind_ the plant!"

"Aren't you?" Loki sounded genuinely confused. "Well," he recovered himself. "You're not invisible."

"Sure I am! Now, close your eyes so I can turn back!"

"Aren't we demanding," he complained.

"Are they closed?"

" _Um-hm_."

Next minute she heard Lila crow as she jumped out in front of him.

"And I've been standing here," she said, proudly, "the _whole time_."

Straightening from her obscured position, Natasha saw disbelief on his face. "You're joking."

Slipping one hand in her back pocket, Natasha tapped the back of her knuckles against the doorframe. "Knock, knock," she smiled.

Loki looked at her, then turned and set aside his book.

"Auntie Nat!" Lila moaned, "you _can't_ take him away! We're playing together!"

Loki would not meet Natasha's eyes as he stood up and she could have sworn that he was embarrassed.

Natasha suppressed a smile. "Don't worry," she tousled Lila's hair. "It's just for a while. I'll bring him back and then you two can play to your hearts' content."

Loki folded his arms. "We've _far_ exceeded our agreement," he pointed out.

Lila turned on him, raising one finger. "We've only _started_ ," she told him. "The game's not over 'til I _say_ so."

Loki gave Natasha a caustic look. "I see your influence took."

She gave a half-shrug. "Gotta start 'em young," she smirked. Patting Lila's head she said, "Come on. I can't leave you up here all by yourself."

Having left the girl with Bruce, Natasha turned on Loki. "You ready?"

He met her look without altering his own. "As I'll ever be," he said.

Natasha gave his shoulder a light shove as she passed him. "Come on," she said. "You might even have fun."

He drew away from her touch like it stung. Dubiously, he followed her.

Natasha sauntered down the halls and out of the doors of Stark's tower, leaving Loki and his doubts to trail after her.

"See you 'round!" Friday said.

"Bye, Friday." Natasha told her.

Then she'd stepped out into the thin, powerful light of a clear winter sun. The air bit cold and fresh in her lungs and it exhilarated her. Before her, her breath was the only cloud in the sky.

His voice floated behind her. "Should we not wait for the others?"

Tipping her head a little to one side, Natasha turned to face Loki, who stood uncertainly just outside the doors. "No, they're –" she shook her head. "No others." She frowned, tipping her head, "Why?"

Loki looked at her. He was calculating something behind his eyes.

Natasha was going to feign ignorance as long as it took.

"Are you sure that's wise?" he asked, at length.

This was a game Natasha knew well. Her face remained placid. "I'm not going to hurt you," she promised. She let the mocking beginnings of a smile touched her mouth. "Cross my heart."

Saying this, she turned and started down the street, leaving him to catch her up.

Thin snow crunched under their feet.

"Why are you doing this?" Loki asked.

Natasha took her time answering. She took a pack of gum out of her coat pocket and offered him a piece. He declined. Shrugging, she unwrapped one for herself and popped in her mouth. Cinnamon exploded, hot and sweet, across her tongue.

"I haven't been skating," she told him, "in _ages_. And it just feels _right_ this time of year, you know?"

" _You_ know," Loki said. "That that's not what I asked."

"Mm." Natasha said. She watched a pigeon settle on one of the scrolls above them on the side of a building. She looked over at Loki. "Lila likes you."

He cast her half a glance, "Also, not what I asked."

She shrugged. "Just something I noticed." She snapped her gum. "No need to be testy. It doesn't always happen. She's usually very shy."

"You're leading to something."

"Nah, not really." Natasha said lightly. "You just didn't strike me as the 'good-with-kids' type."

When she glanced at him, he was smoldering.

"Not _everything_ has to be some big conspiracy, Loki," she said.

His mouth twisted skeptically, but he said nothing. His eyes flickered over the cars and the people.

"You're resistant to conversation," she pointed out. "Did anybody ever tell you that?"

He glanced down at her before spreading his lips thinly. "Yes."

Raising his head again he drew a long breath. "Who sent you?" he asked, lazily. "Fury? Your _dear_ Banner?" he traced his fingertips along the top of a bike rack that stood by the sidewalk, "Potts?" he led, "My brother? Really, it could have been anyone."

She popped her gum. "It couldn't have been me?"

He tipped his head like a condor eyeing something that had died. "But why?"

She took two steps with her hands shoved deep into her pockets. "Why do you think?"

"Mm, nice try," he gave her a side-ways smile. "I think your current methods better suited to a larger group."

"Sure, but," Natasha said, "couldn't it be that you owed me one and nobody else wanted to go?"

"Unlikely."

She looked at him, appraising, and she deliberately chose a direct approach.. "What is it that you think I want from you, Loki?"

"If I knew that," he drawled. He threw her a pointed glance. "I wouldn't _ask_."

"Or you'd ask to see how I responded." She turned her head to face him as they walked. "I _know_ how this game works. I play it for a living. You're waiting for me to admit something."

"No." He was nearing the end of his patience. She could hear it in his voice. "I'm _telling_ you to admit something."

She blew out a breath and watched it cloud on the air. She watched it drift behind her. She popped her gum. "Nothing to admit," she said.

"You _left_ the tower," he said, "unaccompanied, save by myself."

His voice had a lower resonance to it that raised the hair on the back of her neck. Stolidly, she refused to respond to it. "Yep," she said.

"Has Banner any idea at what risk you put yourself?" Loki taunted. "Has Barton?"

"They know I can handle myself."

Abruptly, Loki struck. She let him take her shoulder in one smooth motion and spin her. He pressed her back firmly to the graphitized wall of a dark alley, holding her there with his arm against her collar bone, his face bare inches above her own

"You know that wasn't what I asked," he said.

"No, it wasn't," she spat. "But you know what? They know the same thing I know."

"And what is that?"

"You won't do anything to me."

Loki looked at her. He paused. Natasha could feel some pressure go out of his arm as the resolve flickered in his eyes, doing battle with curiosity.

When he looked back at her, his eyes were very green. "Won't I?"

"Why've you waited so long?" she asked.

The look in his eyes turned to something more of the person she'd met years ago on the helicarrier…before Coulson…before New York… He smiled very slowly. "I lured the Spider out," he breathed, "didn't I?" He was searching her eyes. But like that time, so many years ago and yet so present, Natasha saw no depth behind his irises. Flash but no flame.

Natasha's heart beat faster in her breast.

"I will ask you," he growled, " _one_ , more, _time_ ,"

With every word he increased pressure against her chest and Natasha winced.

"why it is you think I won't hurt you."

She dragged a rough breath past the weight of his arm across her chest. It didn't escape her the way he'd changed his question. She looked into his eyes.

"I _think_ ," she said, "that you've changed." She drew a breath past the pressure of his arm. "I trust you."

There was one startled beat, before he recoiled.

She bent almost double, dragging in deep breaths of the cold air and coughing to clear the pressure out of her lungs. Adjusting her coat, she straightened, smirking a little. "And do you really want Banner angry at you?"

She fixed her hood.

Standing a pace away in the alley, Loki grit his teeth. He looked away.

She analyzed him. Unsteady stance. Unreliable eye-contact. Shaken.

Taking a deep breath, Natasha shoved her hands back deep inside her pockets. She went easily past him and continued down the street.

"You…"

He sounded confused and Natasha gave a slight smile. "You're not my first," she said.

She did not hear him coming, and she did not turn her head. But moments later his step landed alongside hers.

"You know," she said. "I'm a _little_ surprised you're still here."

"Well I'd hardly be welcomed should I return alone," his voice was nearer what she'd designated his 'normal'. Cool, detached, sarcastic. "The rest of your 'Avengers' are hardly the fools you claim to be."

"I wouldn't be so sure," she glanced at him, squinting past the light of the thin winter sun that shot abruptly between buildings. "Tony likes you."

Loki looked at her, "Stark?"

"Um-hm. You know what I think?"

He was looking away again. "…No."

"I think you're not so opposed to being friends as you want us all to think you are."

He paused _just_ long enough that she knew she'd caught him slightly off guard.

He glanced at her with the hint of a smirk, "I daresay friendship is hardly 'in the cards', Romanoff."

Slightly.

"Natasha," she corrected. "And why's that?"

He gave a wry laugh. "As defined," he told her, "'friendship' is a willing participation of two or more individuals of equal status, progressing in company toward a common goal," he smirked, "I would think the impediments obvious."

"Which part?" she drawled. "'Willing'? or 'equal'?"

His smile was sharp as he looked down at her, "I'm afraid I'm one-of-a-kind."

Natasha blew a bubble with her cinnamon gum, and popped it, savoring its heat. "Species isn't everything," she decided.

"Leave _that_ out of it," he said. "Espionage is _hardly_ a fertile ground for companionship," his voice went pointed. "Wouldn't you agree?"

"Yeah," she said, "but it doesn't hurt to know someone has your back."

"And you feel that there 'heroes' have _your_ back."

"Yeah," she said. She looked at him, "Yeah. You know what? I do."

"What of the time before?" he asked, his eyes like colored glass. "Do you remember waiting for the inevitable laughter as the trap closed about you? That you had finally fallen for their trick?"

"I don't _have_ to remember it." She scuffed her foot. "Not all of us are as 'unstained' as you like to pretend, okay?"

"And yet you have the _gall_ to –" his eyes flashed.

"No. No. Okay?" she said. "Stop. It's not that and if you can't see it you're as dense as your brother."

Loki didn't say anything, watching her in surprise.

"Yes, I dared," she said with a laugh. She changed the gum from one cheek to the other. "You know," she teased. "He still hasn't figured out the toaster."

Loki smiled – in spite of himself, she assumed, because he turned his head away. "Stop it."

"No, I'm dead serious. Stark went through five – no – _six_ – before he flatly forbade Thor touch it."

Loki didn't say anything, but he was still smiling.

Natasha took a long breath. "I wish I could say it goes away," she murmured. "But, you were right, it…doesn't." She looked up at him, into his oddly blank eyes. "Does it?"

He looked away, watching the path for a long moment, before he gave a soft laugh. "You look to _me_ ," he asked, "for _hope_? Are you _truly_ so lost as that?"

She drew a long breath, holding it in her lungs. "They tell you you're a hero," she breathed. She watched her breath cloud and float on the air. "They tell you you've made up for it all. They tell you they don't see it, but that doesn't wipe out the stain." She remembered the little boy in the candy store, and Connor, looking at her like she'd offered the kid the world. "It doesn't clear out all the times you knew you were a monster."

She swallowed thickly and dropped her eyes, watching her feet in the snow.

Neither one of them spoke for several moments.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked.

"No harm," she said, less steadily than she would have liked. "You already knew."

He didn't answer and when she glanced up at him he did not look impressed.

"Alright," she laughed, "that was lazy." She tucked a loose lock of hair back under the hood of the sweatshirt she wore under her coat. It had been Clint's. "I don't know."

Moments of silence stretched to minutes as she watched her feet, and then the cars going by them in the street. She didn't have anything left to say. The rest was for him.

"So," he said finally, "I'm your project, then."

He said it like the words had a bad taste in his mouth.

Swallowing a smirk, Natasha shrugged. "Well," she said, "if _you_ can make it…"

He didn't answer and when she glanced up he was just _looking_ at her.

She raised on quizzical eyebrow. "You can't have _actually_ believed that," she said. Shaking her head she made a _tsk tsk_ sound with her tongue.

In spite of himself, he cracked a smile. "That's not funny," he said.

"I don't know," she mused. "I thought it was pretty funny. _Almost_ as good as the fifth toaster," she looked at him, "Almost."

 **IV.**

Loki spoke fluent Russian.

Which surprised as much as it delighted Natasha. It had been so long since she'd used her mother-tongue for anything other than interrogation. She had few colleagues who spoke it and fewer who cared to converse within its parameters.

He'd muttered something, half under his breath as he attempted to secure the laces on his skate, and, startled, she'd answered in kind.

She hadn't realized how she missed the feel of her first language.

Loki was swearing in very fluent Russian at the skates that he could barely walk in, and the combined effect of the _god_ that had once haunted her nightmares stumbling over his own feet like a toddler and the surprise of using her own language, coupled with the startled glances of the others who'd chosen to make use of the rink was making her laugh too hard to secure her own skates.

And Loki seemed quite pleased with himself for it, if she dared presume so much.

She could barely walk in them better than he, which he pointed out in a mock-sulk before snatching out an arm to catch a nearby lamp post for balance as he took the ice. Natasha told him again that it had been years since she'd skated.

Slanting a sardonic look, Loki repeated his question _why_ she chose to start now, and with a shrug Natasha repeated her answer that it just _felt right_.

Ever sarcastic, Loki rolled his eyes.

Testing her feet, Natasha pushed off, sliding a few yards past Loki. It was beginning to come back to her, and she was just starting to think that maybe she wasn't as bad as the first few seconds had led her to believe, when Loki's anti-skating diatribe was broken off by a startled yelp.

Natasha turned just in time to watch him sprawl gracelessly onto his backside.

"You alright?" Natasha glided back to him.

Giving a sullen groan, Loki flopped backwards onto the ice. One hand pressed the bridge of his nose. His eyes drifted shut.

Then he started laughing. _Really_ laughing, like he had during _Gremlins_.

The sound was infectious, to the point that Natasha lost her footing and hit the ice hard enough to momentarily drive out her breath.

Couples and families skated past them. No one gave them more than a glance.

It all felt distant and surreal, as she pushed herself awkwardly back onto her knees, like the crystalized moment of a dream. Swallowing her laughter, she wondered if Loki felt it.

Groaning as she picked herself up, Natasha offered Loki her hand.

Suspicion overrode any humor that had been in his eyes, and a look that was more like the one that had crossed his face in the alley when she had pledged him her trust took its place. He made no move to take her hand.

"I can get up myself," he said.

Natasha did not withdraw her hand. She locked eyes with him, and she did not smile.

"I never said you couldn't."

She let him watch her, searching her eyes, judging, appraising.

Then he relented.

His fingers wrapped about her wrist and, he let her haul him to his feet.

"So," she said lightly, "not a lot of skating on Asgard?"

Loki gave just the hint of a laugh, "If you're ready to go back..."

"I'm making _conversation_ ," she grinned.

And when he glanced back at her, he was smiling.

* * *

 **I have had so much fun working on this chapter. I still might go back and edit some things, but I think the skeleton's good ;)**

 **Let me know what you guys think of it!**


	17. Silver Bells

**I'm gonna admit it right now. This chapter is...scattered. When I originally wrote this, there were no chapters. Dividing it INTO chapters has been largely unproblematic...until now. Pretty much every one of these little vignettes could be a chapter on its own, but that'd look ridiculous after all the long-ass chapters I've put you guys through. The only connecting factor (and how I justify to myself that they're all here together) is that they all occur on the same two days.**

 **So, without further ado, I give you 'Silver Bells'**

 **I.**

First, Natasha had left him to ringmaster his own circus – without Pepper – while she went _ice skating_.

Not cool.

Then she had the audacity to come back home, with Loki in tow, both of them laughing and jabbering in what Clint assured him was Russian.

Whatever it was, he and Bruce had watched in stupefied horror as the two of them first came into the room, discarding their coats.

"Hey, how was it?" Bruce asked.

Neither Nat nor Loki so much as looked in their direction before exiting into the main rooms of the Tower.

"They…had to have noticed us," Bruce said, "…right?"

Tony knocked back his coffee. "She's all yours," he said.

"I'm…" Banner stammered, following him out of the room. "Is she…?"

As it was, no one had burned down the Tower - _yet –_ Christmas music was playing, some sort of finger-food – courtesy of Laura Barton and Steven Rogers – was being eaten, and pleasant conversation was being made over the sound of _The Grinch_ that the Barton children were watching on the far side of the room.

Cooper was lying with his feet up the back of the couch, watching the movie upside down. Lila was lining up tiny figurines along the edges of the floor.

Clint was standing in a group nearby, telling some kind of story. Tony went up behind him and got his attention.

"So you're _sure_ it's harmless?" he prodded Clint.

"I _told_ you," Clint turned, laughing, "I don't speak Russian."

"But you speak a little."

Sam, Laura and Rhodes seemed to find the intrusion into their conversation entertaining.

"…Yeah," Clint allowed, "Tasha taught me…some."

"And you're _sure_ they weren't planning anything."

"Yeah, Stark. Sure. Out of the lightning-fast gobbeldy-gook that they're using as a language I put together that they're not trying to kill us."

"Good man." Tony patted his shoulder. "Maybe I'll go ask Wanda…"

"I wouldn't do that," Sam warned.

Tony smiled at him over his shoulder as he sauntered over to the bar, where Banner and Romanoff were talking. Natasha stood at the far side of the bar, resting her elbows on it, while Bruce sat on a bar stool a little to her right. Tony claimed the stool next to him.

"You," Tony pointed at her, sagging on his elbows, "have some explaining to do."

Natasha smiled around the rim of her cup, "You look like you've been having fun."

"Yeah. About that. And your fraternizing with the enemy."

"We're not enemies here, Tony," Natasha looked at him reproachfully, her eyes laughing. "We're a team, remember? There are no enemies on a team."

"Yeah?" Tony took off his glasses, "tell that to Clint and Sam."

Glancing at the two of them – and at the conversation that was getting more animated by the second – Natasha gave a soft laugh.

"But seriously though," Tony looked her directly in the eyes, "Russian?"

"It may surprise you, but I do speak Russian," Natasha said.

Bruce stifled a laugh behind his hand.

Tony eyed him accusingly. "But, you see, it makes me nervous on a _normal_ day, Natasha."

She glanced briefly past him at the table where he knew Loki and Vision were. One red eyebrow quirked as her eyes dropped back to him. "What, can't handle a little risk? You know," setting her glass aside, she shrugged, "he's a lot easier to talk to when I don't expect you to rise to his bait and start an intergalactic war."

"But was _Russian_ really necessary?"

Her expression hardened, minutely. "It's an expression of _trust_ , Stark."

" _Aaand_ we're back to last names," he tapped a quick rhythm on the bar. "I'm out."

Behind him, he heard Natasha's laugh, and Bruce's low voice.

Loki had both elbows on the table, with one finger resting over his mouth, which was something Tony had noticed that he did when he was listening. Vision was sitting back in his chair, explaining a question that Tony had not heard.

Tony leaned his hip against the table.

Both Loki and his own former-butler, ignored him.

"…in short," Vision was saying, "the symbolism is strange to me."

Glancing at the table, Loki considered. "Most in that, _particular,_ example," he said, "is peculiar to Earth, though," he shrugged, "the concept of 'Holy Night' or 'Holy Darkness' paired beside an image of 'Nurturing Motherhood' is something I am well used to."

"Fascinating," Vision leaned forward, resting both elbows on the table and folding his hands. "And what of _Deck the Halls_?"

Loki smirked. "Pure frivolity." Seeming to reconsider, he shrugged, "barring the _obvious_ allusions."

Feeling that it was about time he insert himself, Tony snorted. "Figures the only person you can have a civil conversation with was once a computer program." He glanced aside, "No offense,"

Vision spread his hands graciously, "None taken."

"Nice to see you getting along with Rushman, Reindeer Games," Tony drummed his fingertips on the table, "Though I gotta say, Russian, wouldn't've been my first choice. _Just_ putting that out there."

Loki looked at the ceiling tiles.

Across the room, Pepper was laughing at something Strange had said to her. Her laugh got Tony's attention. Patting the back of Loki's chair because he knew the proximity was likely to annoy the god, Tony said, "Good chat."

Tony didn't look back to see him bristle.

"His _name_ is RedWing." Wilson said.

"Uh-huh," Barton dismissed him, "So _BlueFalcon_ …"

Tony heard Mrs. Barton giggle.

"This seat taken?" he asked.

Cap glanced up. "It's your house."

"Really? Okay," Tony pulled the chair out from the table and sank down next to him, setting down his cup with a little _clink._ "I hadn't noticed."

Glancing back down into his drink, Steve gave a soft laugh.

Tony sat back in his chair, looking over the Avengers. It was like some kind of Norman Rockwell painting, but with Super Heroes. Tony watched as Wanda actually _smiled_ at something Rhodes was saying to her. She switched the Bartons' baby to her opposite hip.

"Is it what you wanted?" Steve asked.

Tony looked at him.

"All this," Steve gestured to the room. He looked at Tony, "Is it what you had in mind?"

"Eh," Tony shrugged. He scanned the room again. "More or less. We didn't do the whole 'family' thing very well when I was up-and-coming. You know, my dad. Kinda," he tipped his head sideways, "shooting in the dark…type, deal. But I'm pretty sure you knew him,"

Steve was smiling. "He wasn't as bad as you paint him, Tony."

"Keep tellin' me that Old Timer," Tony finished his drink. "Just maybe, someday, you can tell _my_ kids how great _I_ am."

"I would." Steve said.

Tony swiveled to face him, and Rogers was looking at him with that straight, stubborn set to his mouth Tony knew from all the posters.

Tony started laughing.

"I really would," Steve protested.

"And what about you, Rogers?" Tony leaned back, folding his arms. "How does the Twenty-First-Century-Christmas-Experience measure up?"

"It's…different." Steve said.

"… _different_." Tony deadpanned.

Steve chuckled. "But it's good, Tony," he said. He gave Tony a little sideways look. "I wouldn't trade it for the world."

"Well in that case," Tony raised his empty glass. "Happy Hanukkah."

 **II.**

Groaning, Clint half-laughed. "Tasha, you wanna hold him for a second?"

A shadow peeled away from the others in the back corner of his room and it took its namesake off his arm.

"Laura _said_ we have diapers somewhere in here." He flicked on the bedside light.

Crouching down to look in the bag Laura had stowed under the bed, he glanced up at her. "You doin alright?"

"'Course," Nat shrugged. "I just wanted to check in," she bounced the baby on her hip and Nathaniel crowed.

Clint looked up to see and they both smiled at the boy. He had such a goofey smile, all mouth, no teeth.

"We haven't had a lot of quiet time to talk," Natasha said, softly. "I thought you might have something to say without an audience."

Discovering what it was he had come for, Clint rocked back onto one heel. He looked up at her in the yellow light.

He was a soldier. She was a spy.

He assessed quickly.

"Na," he decided. "We're good. But if you _really_ want to be in the clear, you'll lay that," he indicated the baby, "on the bed and keep his attention while I do the fun part."

Giving a soft laugh, Natasha did as he asked. She smiled.

"Look at Auntie Nat, Okay?" he said. "This isn't _my_ favorite thing either."

Before all else, they were friends. Clint would trust her judgement any day.

 **III.**

Everybody has a day when things go horribly, inexplicably, _wrong_.

The Avengers had Tuesday.

Tuesday was bad.

First, the cookies burned. Lila cried because it was the _one time_ Cooper hadn't gotten in her way while she was cooking, and the cookies hadn't turned out.

Tony had his hands in his pockets. " _Not_ the six-year-old's dream come true."

Clint looked at him, "Any ideas?"

"Wait – you're –" Tony looked at him. "You're asking _me_ for parenting advice?"

"Any suggestions?"

Tony floundered. "Buy her a bakery?"

On the plus side, he got to witness the _exact_ moment that Clint lost faith in him as a parental advisor.

Once she forgot about the cookies, Lila was a monster. She hopped up and down and chattered and yapped and generally disturbed people _all morning_ in an effort to getattention. She turned the music up until even Tony couldn't stand it any longer.

She was cute, but even her cuteness wouldn't save her for much longer.

She went to pester Loki until he finally lost his patience and disappeared into his room and wouldn't come out.

"No offense, but good riddance," Tony popped trail mix from the bowl into his mouth. "Is there popcorn in this?" he pawed through the bowl, "Who puts popcorn in _trail mix_? – All things considered," he shrugged, "That's better than could have been expected."

Steve raised one eyebrow. "Loki?" he asked, "or the trail mix?"

"Last time I saw him lose his temper – I mean _really_ lose it – the room exploded. Remember the East Wing?"  
"I do," one side of Steve's mouth crept up.

"Not funny." Tony threw a piece of popcorn at him.

There were carolers. Lots of carolers. What made December twenty-first a better day for caroling than any other day of God's year was beyond Tony's imagination.

They caroled.

They asked for autographs.

And they caroled.

Baby-Barton had not slept all night, and, thus, neither had either of his parents. Clint spent the morning attempting manfully to drink his weight in coffee. And making good progress, all things considered.

"You wanna…?" Tony went to take the _third_ pot out of his hand.

"You don't understand," Clint blocked his reach with his shoulder, "I need this to live."

"Forget Arc Reactor Tech," Tony muttered, "I'm gonna plug _you_ in for awhile. Do _not_ ," he stopped Natasha as she came into the room, "let Clint near any outlets."

On second thought, Tony didn't blame him. The man deserved a medal of honor for hanging around this long. At the end of this, Tony decided, he'd get Clint a cask of whatever it was that could get _Thor_ drunk. Or a coffee farm somewhere in Brazil. Either.

Clint liked farms.

Speaking of, Tony hoped that Thor was enjoying himself.

Somebody ought to be.

There were more carolers than Tony knew what to do with.

They caroled.

They asked for…favors.

And they caroled.

"Bruce, I'm going to develop Door-Bell PTSD."

"I'm…" pushing up his glasses, Bruce left a smear of flour on his nose, "pretty sure that's not a thing." He steadied the mixing bowl between his hands.

"Well then I'll make it one."

"He's got the money," Lila pointed out. She was standing on a chair, stirring.

Tony looked at Bruce, then back at the girl. "Sure do, Kid."

"Uh…" Friday's voice got his attention and Tony stopped pacing. "Boss?"

"How many times, Friday?" Tony demanded. "Honestly." He rounded on his heel to the table where Bruce and Lila were working. "We need a stealth mode."

The children belonging to the carolers climbed the walls and broke…things. Tony was sure they'd broken something. Somehow it befitted the grand scheme of the Universe that they didn't simultaneously break themselves.

Cooper was not to be found. Not that Tony blamed him.

Tony ran a hand through his hair. "Say it with me, Friday: No one's home."

Kids got lost in the Tower and their frantic mothers ran up and down the halls looking for them before Steve found one trying to climb up the 'Avengers-Family Christmas Tree.'

"Here he is, Ma'am. Completely unhurt."

"Oh, thank you, _so much_! I don't know what to do with him sometimes –"

"Yeah, uh-huh fascinating. Bye-bye." Tony shut the door after _both of them_.

Then he looked at Steve. "What?"

They found Lila trying to hide a set of twins in the Bartons' floor. She pleaded that she wanted _girls_ to play with. Natasha took her shopping after that, with Bruce and Steve.

It wasn't until after the three of them had left that Tony realized he'd lost his three best players.

"No one's home, Boss."

"That's not what I –" Tony dropped his hands, "you know what? Screw it."

Rhodey, wasn't answering his phone. Incidentally, it was also the _last day_ Pepper was putting in at the office before Christmas, and Vision had gone with her.

Scott – Lord love him – was trying.

"One of the Christmas trees caught on fire," he told Tony.

Tony jerked.

"Don't worry," Scott put out both hands like he meant to catch him. "I've got it all under control. We're just…" he gestured to the towel in his hands, "cleaning up the mess."

"…Who's 'we'?"

But by then. Scott had already vanished around the corner. Tony didn't bother to follow him.

Wanda was in her room, with a 'migraine'. Tony's _life_ was a migraine.

Cooper threw up on the carpet.

"Mrs. Barton?"

"Yeah, Tony?"

Laura looked – in a word – whipped. She was sitting on the side of her bed, bouncing the fussing baby on her knee. Tony _almost_ felt bad. "We have a situation," he pushed Cooper into the room. "He _might_ have come down with a stomach flu _or_ the plague. Then again," he shrugged, "it might be that he's eaten himself sick on cookies. We just don't know."

Laura gave Cooper something close to the _look_ that Pepper liked to give him. One-part disappointment, three-parts resignation.

"Don't be too hard on him," Tony patted the kid's shoulder. "I've done worse."

He went to shut the door, then, on second thought, poked his head back in, "You haven't got a wizard lying around in here, somewhere, have you? I seem to have misplaced mine."

Laura smoothed the hair out of her eyes, "Yeah, he went out early this morning."

"Well wasn't that nice of him."

She gave a tired chuckle.

Half-out the door, Tony gestured at Cooper, "Read up on your Harry Potter, Kid. Then we'll roast him. Hufflepuff all the way."

Tony found Clint in the kitchen. Pressing his eyes, Tony leaned against the cupboards.

Wordlessly, Clint offered him the coffeepot.

Tony slid a cup across the counter.

Clint shrugged, then filled the cup and passed it back.

Tony didn't even have the energy to wonder where the coffee had been.

"Seen Wilson?" he asked, lowering the cup.

"Blue Falcon?" Clint asked. He shook his head. "Haven't seen him."

"That means it's you, me, and Lang." Tony took another drink. "Assuming he survived the tree."

Clint's eyebrows climbed slowly to his hairline. Then he rested his head back against the all. "I'm not even gonna ask," he decided. He eyed Tony without turning his head. "I _told_ you twenty-eight was too many trees."

"Twenty-seven."

Clint gave a dry chuckle. "They're picking us off," he said. "One by one."

The doorbell rang.

Tony groaned.

"It's only a matter of time…" Clint had eyes only for his coffee, "before they get us all."

"I'm…" Friday said uncertainly. "I'm not sure what you want me to say, Boss."

"Screw it," Tony said, for what felt like the thousandth time. "I'm canceling Christmas."

When Tony got to the front door, it was Happy.

Tony stared at him in tired stupefaction. "What are you doing here?"

"What's going on?" Happy demanded. "I rang _three times_."

Holding the door, Tony blinked at him.

"No one's answering their phones –" Happy numbered on his fingers.

Deducing that Happy was not about to slow down, Tony glanced at the coffee in his hand, then at the plate of cookies inexplicably in the other.

He shoved the plate at Happy. "Run while you still have the chance."

Tony shut the door on him.

 **IV.**

"So." Christine rested her chin on one fist as she smiled.

Around them, there were the gentle sounds of knives and silverware, and subdued voices.

"How is the Christmas 'party'?"

She put air quotes around 'party', and Strange chuckled. "Well, the past two days've been _fun_ , but other than that…"

She set down her glass, "How bad's 'fun'?"

Strange tapped the fingers of one hand against the tablecloth, watching a waiter as he strode by. "I'd rather not talk about it."

"Stephen," she said. "You're with the _Avengers_. Was it, 'Doom took out a city in Uganda', or was it 'Captain America burned cookies'?"

He gave a slight laugh, "You make it sound so pedestrian…"

"Well which was it, Stephen?"

"The…" he drummed his fingertips on his glass, "…second."

She sat back, shaking her head, a relieved set to her mouth. "Good," she said. "For a minute there you had me worried."

"You worry about me?" he glanced up at her.

She lifted her glass. "Don't push it."

Setting the glass down again she moved her silverware aside and leaned on her elbows. "So, Captain America burned a batch of cookies, huh?"

Strange chuckled. "He did."

"Aaand I suppose it's a safe guess you didn't…"

She mimed opening the Eye of Agamotto.

Strange leaned back, "You too?" he exclaimed. " _Everyone_ seems to think…" He looked at her. "…You were joking."

She nodded her head. "I was."

"Ah." Strange re-arranged himself. "I can see that now. But, really, in all seriousness, it _does_ alter the grand scope of…of _Time_ itself –"

She smoothed her napkin, "You don't have to preach to me."

"No," he said. "I'm serious. It alters _Time_ and –"

"No, really," she put a hand over his on the tabletop. "You don't have to." She patted the back of his hand. "I get it."

"Oh," recalling something, Strange slid his hand out from under hers.

Looking out over the restaurant, Christine continued, "I was teasing you."

"Speaking of," Strange fumbled in his pocket, "…getting things…I _got_ you, something."

He produced the little wrapped box, and offered it to her.

She looked at him.

"It's nothing you would object to," he assured her. "Open it."

She hesitated, smiling at him with one side of her mouth, then with a breath of a laugh she took it. "You know you didn't have to get me anything," she said.

"Yeah, that's why it's called a 'gift'," he said, shifting in his seat, "not 'taxes'."

Cutting through the last piece of tape with her nail, Christine chuckled. Then she peeled the paper away and lifted the tiny lid off the box.

"Oh, Stephen…"

It was a single, smooth shard of stone – about the size of a dime – set in a round silver backing and strung on a delicate chain. The stone itself was only a fragment of the once much-larger whole. It was milky-white in color, and writhed with ropes of pearlescent light that flickered like the flame of a candle, prey to no movement of the light surrounding it. It wavered like the lines of sun through clear water.

"Stephen…" she hardly dared to touch it with her fingertips.

"I tried to find something that wasn't…" he searched for the word, "ostentatious."

Still looking at the stone she smiled, "You remembered,"

"I remembered how you mocked me, yes." Watching her, he smiled. "But you like it?"  
She glanced up at him. "It's beautiful." Sitting straighter, she cleared her throat. "Thank you,"

"Look on the back."

"Oh?" giving a curious little tip of her head, Christine touched the stone and carefully, turned it over.

In the silver, etched in fine, slanting script, read the words:

 _You are the light of my life._

 _-Stephen_

Christine didn't say anything. She only looked at it.

Strange sat back. "I'll spare you the details of how and when I came by that stone," he said.

Lifting her head, Christine smiled at him.

"And how I got it back," he continued, "here, with me…"

"Stephen," she put a hand on his.

"Um," he stopped. "Yes?"

"You're happy?" she asked. She waved her free hand, "With your Cult and the stones and _all_ of that. You're happy?"

He turned his hand palm up to hold hers. "And with you."

She rolled her eyes, "Cheeseball," She squeezed his hand. "But you're happy?"

He nodded once, "I am."

"Then that's all I could ask for." Sliding her hand out of his, she sat back.

"How about you?" he asked, leaning forward, "Life in the ER fast enough for you?"

"No shop talk," she chided. Easily with her long fingers, she removed the stone from its box and reached up to fasten it about her neck.

Strange glanced at his hand, wrecked and scarred on the table, useful for nothing so intricate as clasping a necklace. "You started it," he grumbled.

If thought of his hands occurred to Christine, she gave no sign. The stone settled in the hollow of her throat. She shook her hair behind her again. "How does it look?"

"Better now that you're wearing it."

Chidingly, she smiled at him.

He chuckled.

She reached out and took his hand in hers. "Merry Christmas, Stephen," she said. Her eyes glowed.

He smiled back at her. "Merry Christmas."

 **V.**

Tony woke up at an unholy hour. Not even _Rogers_ was up yet.

Padding barefooted into the kitchen for a glass of water, Tony squinted at the clock.

Karma.

"See," he muttered to himself, screwing back the tap. "It's mornings like _this_ that prompt me to _not_ sleep."

"Because it's harder to wake up?"

Tony dropped his cup into the sink.

On the other side of the counter, was the small silhouette of Lila, on a straight-backed chair.

"Morning, Mr. Stark."

Fumbling in the dark, Tony switched on the light.

Ducking her head, Lila blinked.

"Yeah…" Tony dredged up a smile. "Hi."

Her hands were tied behind her. As Tony watched her, he realized that she was _tied_ to the chair. He forced his voice to something less startled. " _You're_ up early," he said.

She kicked her little bare feet, looking off to her left. "Look who's talking."

"Everything okay?" he forced.

She bobbed her head.

Tony's heartbeat was only just beginning to slow. "Mind telling me what happened?"

Kicking one foot, Lila looked at him. "Mr. Loki doesn't like mornings so much." Sheepishly, she averted her eyes.

"Guess not." Reducing the threat level of the situation from possible-hostage-negotiation to peeved-house-guest, Tony felt his blood pressure drop. He turned and re-filled his glass. " _Definitely Karma_."

"So," he sat on the table and let his feet hang. "Since you're up too, got any plans?"

Lila blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. "I'm not going anywhere," she said.

He scratched the back of his neck. "You know," he said, "There's more of your dad in you than I expected. Here. Let me," he hopped down, "help you out of that."

 **Just some connecting details for anybody who feels lost. The first section is during/after the last chapter. Everybody has a day where EVERYTHING GOES WRONG. Tony's narration started getting a little choppy and episodic, but I thought that was in character for him on a stressful day, so I left it as is.**

 **During a proof reading a friend pointed out that I have almost NOTHING from Clint's pov, and that he MIGHT have a little problem with his best friend (Nat) making friends with the man who brainwashed him and made him kill their coworkers - not matter how long ago that happened. For whatever reason, drama between Loki and Clint just wasn't coming to me. So this scene, where Natasha's worried Clint might see the beginnings of her friendship with Loki as a betrayal and he reassured her that is was not was my substitution for that. (I tried to write it from Nat's pov, but the surfacing self-doubt and slinking off alone to wait in the dark for Clint to inevitably arrive in his room just sounded whiny no matter how I spun it. I just love the fact that Clint wasn't surprised to find her there, and THAT wasn't lost in the telling from HIS pov. Their friendship is so pure).**

 **Section three is pretty much a repeat of section one, except moreso. I needed some stressed-out-dad-Clint, some Tony/Clint bonding, some Scott is doing his BEST and Stephen is absent. And Happy needed a cameo.**

 **That same friend who pointed out the lack of Barton wanted a Stephen/Christine scene. And since they are one of my favorite pairings in the MCU, I had to include it. This was my first time trying to write them, so I apologize. But Christine's low-key roasting and Stephen's low-level sulking about it is too much fun to pass up ;)**

 **That last one. I hope you liked it. That last section is near and dear to my heart X) I hadn't planned on writing that. I hope you enjoyed.**

* * *

 **Now that THAT's over with, we're getting to the part that inspired this whole mess!**

 **Next chapter starts my _Christmas Carol_ spoof. You have no idea how much I've been looking forward to this section ;) Should be up in a day or two. **

* * *

**Oh, and as a P.S., I almost named this chapter after the 'Weird Al' song _The Night Santa Went Crazy_ , but I picked _Silver Bells_ instead because the peace inherent to that song was ironic. ;)**


	18. A Christmas Carol - Introduction

**.~.~*~.~.Interlude.~.~*~.~.**

 ****~.~**A Christmas Carol**

* * *

 **This one needs a special introductory note, because aside from being fanfiction, this one is full-on plagiarism. I have copied, almost word-for-word, from Dicken's original classic. Legally, i make the argument for parody, because undeniably that's what this is.**

 **I feel like I'm going a little too far here. But I love it, so here goes.**

 **I have taken out a few paragraphs (Dicken's got paid by the word. I love him, but it shows). I have added a few descriptive terms or lines (he didn't like to narrate the action taking place during the dialogue - which - while it works for him - i found awkward and stiff in my writing).**

 **The preface is his entirely, save for the words "to rest" tagged on the end (Because I'm familiar with his writing, I knew what he _meant,_ but that's just asking for misunderstanding these days X) I also wrote his full name, where he only wrote initials. I have preserved his spelling and capitalization wherever I could, and have striven to replicate the tone of the original in all the additions I have made. **

**Without further ado...**

* * *

 **Preface**

I have endeavoured in this Ghostly little interlude, to raise the Ghost of an Idea, which shall not put my readers out of humour with themselves, with each other, with the season, or with me. May it haunt their house pleasantly, and no one wish to lay it to rest.

Their faithful Friend and Servant,

Charles Dickens

 _December 1843._

* * *

 **Stave I: Coulson's Ghost**

 **Part the First**

Coulson was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Loki had killed him: and Loki's attacks were good upon 'Change for anyone he chose to put his hand to. Old Coulson was dead as a doornail.

Mind! I don't mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a doornail. I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile; and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the Country's done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that Coulson was as dead as a door-nail.

Loki knew he was dead? Of course he did. How could it be otherwise? Loki and Coulson were adversaries for I don't know how many days before Loki killed him. Now, Loki was not _there_ , mind, when Coulson died. But, as I said only just a moment ago, what Loki wanted dead was shortly to be on the way to dissolution. And though he was not at the funeral, Loki was certain of the fact of Coulson's death as he was of that of his own continuing animation.

The mention of Coulson's funeral brings me back to the point I started from. There is no doubt that Coulson was dead. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing can come of the story I am going to relate. If we were not perfectly convinced that Hamlet's Father died before the play began, there would be nothing more remarkable in his taking a stroll at night, in an easterly wind, upon his own ramparts, than there would be in any other middle-aged gentleman rashly turning out after dark in a breezy spot – say Saint Paul's Churchyard for instance – literally to astonish his son's weak mind.

Oh! But he was a slippery-skinned rascal was our Loki! a sneering, wrenching, mocking, japing, clutching, cold, covetous sinner! Hard and sharp as flint, from which any steel was hard-pressed to strike out generous fire; secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster. The cold within him froze his sharp features. He carried his own low temperature always about with him; he iced his apartments in the dog-days; and he didn't thaw it one degree at Christmastime.

External heat and cold had little influence on Loki. No warmth could warm, nor wintery weather chill him. No wind that blew was bitterer than he, no falling snow more intent upon its purpose, no pelting rain less open to entreaty. Foul weather didn't know where to have him.

Nobody ever stopped him in the street to say, with gladsome looks, "My dear Loki, how are you? when will you come to see me?" No beggars implored him to bestow a trifle, no children asked him what it was o'clock, no man or woman ever once in all his life inquired the way to such and such a place, of Loki.

But what did Loki care? It was the very thing he liked. To edge his way along the crowded paths of life, warning all human sympathy to keep its distance, was bread and meat to Loki.

Once upon a time – of all the good days of the year, on Christmas Eve – Loki sat busy in a room apart from the rest. It was cold, bleak, biting weather and he could hear the various people within the building going about their business. The Tower clocks had only just gone eleven in the morning, but it was quite dark outside; snow was on its way.

"A merry Christmas, Brother!" cried a cheerful voice. It was the voice of Loki's brother, who came upon him so quickly that this was the first intimation he had of his approach.

"Hm." Loki snorted. He didn't – more than a moment – look up from his book. "How droll."

"Now come, Brother," said Thor, "You don't mean that, I am sure?"

"I do," said Loki. "Merry Christmas!" he scoffed, putting a finger in his book and closing it. "What right have you to be merry? what reason have you to be merry? You're dull enough."

"Come then," returned his brother joyously, "What right have you to be so dismal? what reason have you to be so morose? You're wise enough."

Loki having no better answer ready on the spur of the moment said, "You're free to go."

"Don't be cross, Brother," said Thor.

"What else can I be" returned Loki, "when I live in such a world of fools as this? Merry Christmas! Out upon merry Christmas! What's Christmas time to you but a time for frolic without cause; a time for finding yourself a year older and not an hour wiser; a time for recounting past deeds of glory and finding nothing in them worthy of remembrance? If I could work my will," said Loki, indignantly, "every idiot who goes about with 'Merry Christmas,' on his lips should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart."

"Loki!" pleaded his brother.

"Brother!" returned Loki, sternly, "keep Christmas in your own way, and let me keep it in mine."  
"Keep it!" repeated Loki's brother. "But you don't keep it!"

"Let me leave it alone, then," said Loki. "Much good may it do you! Much good has it ever done you!"

"There are many things from which I might have derived good, by which I have not profited, I dare say," returned Thor: "Christmas among the rest. But I have always thought of Jol as a good time. And I do not see why Christmas should be any different. In fact – it should be moreso! It is a good time: a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time: the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys. And therefore, Brother, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, and though I have never truly celebrated it before, I believe that it _has_ done me good, and it _will_ do me good; and I say it is blessed!"

Barton, attracted by the uproar of an unexpected voice, had stopped and stood spell-bound in the hallway just without the open door. At the culmination of this impromptu speech he involuntarily applauded: becoming immediately sensible of this impropriety, he abruptly turned on his heel and went his way.

Loki sent a baleful glare after him, rectifying the look a moment later to something a touch more reserved as he angled the glance up at his brother. "You're quite a powerful speaker, Thor. It will serve you well in your future kingship," he said. "Or your entrance to bardic school," he chuckled. "Whichever you more fancy."

"Don't be angry, Brother," it seemed that Thor had lost the majority of his energy in the delivery of his discourse for he hovered a touch uncertainly in the doorway on the balls of his feet. "Come! Dine with us tomorrow."

Loki snorted, sitting back and flipping his book open again upon his lap, "I'll see you in Hel first."

"But why?" cried his brother. "Why?"

Loki turned a page. "Why ever did you go back to her?"

"Because I fell in love."

"Because you fell in love!" repeated Loki, as if that were the only thing in the world more ridiculous than a merry Christmas. He flipped his hand, "Go your way."

For one moment more Loki's brother hovered in the doorway, as though caught by desperate indecision. "I want nothing from you," Thor took one step nearer his brother. "I ask nothing of you; why cannot we be friends?"

Loki turned another page – too quickly – if honesty is served, for even his impressive speed of comprehension – to be using the poor book for more than a strut, "Good afternoon."

"I am sorry," Thor said, "with all my heart, to find you so resolute. I would overcome our quarrel and repair any damage I have caused," he straightened up stubbornly, "but I'll keep my Christmas Humor to the last. So, a Merry Christmas, Brother!"

"Mm-hm." The hand supporting the unread pages went inexplicably rigid, though Thor did not observe it. "Humbug."

"I'll return to meet you for our trip home in a day or two."

"Norns speed you on your journey."

His brother left the room without an angry word, notwithstanding. He stopped at the outer door to bestow the greetings of the season on two of his friends, who, hearing no little uproar and achieving some small explanation from Barton, had come to ascertain for themselves the source of the upheaval. He told them, with weariness of countenance, that it was his duty so to leave them, to return to his beloved for the Holiday. And with a heaviness to his step that had been absent upon his entering the Tower, he left it. He left it, nevertheless, with a staunch smile upon his face.

 **~.~.~*~.~.~ ~.~.~*~.~.~**

"Dude, you…" Wilson paused, looking from the newly slammed door of the room in which Loki had been reading, to the door by which Thor had only just exited, and back to Stark, who stood at his left. "You saw that, right?"

Tony was staring, unblinkingly at the door to Loki's chosen room. "Yep."

Wilson shook his head, "That's messed up, Man," he said. He rubbed his face with one hand. "It's like something out of a Dicken's novel."

" _A Christmas Carol_. Yep."

Without breaking eye-contact with the door, Tony abruptly turned on one heel. The coffee in his cup sloshed over the side. "And we're gonna do something about it. Come on."

* * *

 **Part one of ...I think six...in my 'Christmas Carol' spoof. Do not be alarmed. Only the first two draw so heavily from Dicken's work, and none as heavily as this.**

 **While I would advise nearly any adaptation of this book, the movie "The Man Who Invented Christmas" starring Dan Stevens was one that I have recently discovered, and it is phenomenal.**

 **Thoughts? Let me know! have any of you read the Dicken's version before? I'd love to know how this read after reading that!**


	19. A Christmas Carol - The Ghost

**I am not plagiarizing Dicken's as highly this chapter. The dialogue is 3/4 Dickens, 1/4 me. The prose between is maybe opposite. I did try to imitate his style throughout. Next chapter we should be back to a more current style ;)**

 **I'm gonna try to get out another chapter by the weekend. We'll see what I can do.**

* * *

 **Stave I: Coulson's Ghost**

 **Part the Second**

Loki was left to himself for some time after his brother's departure. Finding his mood black and undesirous of company, he took himself off to his own chambers. He cast himself carelessly into his high-backed armchair, with the novel opened up on his hand.

An hour passed him by in this fashion with no disturbance to further flutter his already fickle disposition.

But as with all tales of any weight or measure due to be remembered among the minds of men, his peace was not to remain long undisturbed. Not that his peace was _undisturbed_ thus far, for – truth be told – he'd been rather flustered by his brother's unexpected visit. It was a position more indicative of quiet, than of peace, and I will leave it as unnecessary to point out further to the capable minds of my readers the obvious variance between those two states of being.

So, for a precious hour the digital clock that stood on the low shelf along the wall changed its display minute by minute, and the old broken coo-coo-clock that Thor had taken such a liking to remained yet useless on the top of the tall bookshelf by the bedroom door, and the snow fell thickly by the wide windows – undisturbed by any soft breath of wintry wind, and Loki read.

Near enough to the close of that one hour that for the ease of our purpose I may safely estimate the time's full passage, Loki raised his eyes from the page to ascertain the time. One hour. He'd read rather less than he had meant to in that time. His powers of comprehension had been noticeably altered by his ruffled state after seeing his brother. The fact irritated him, but the consciousness of its cause nettled him more. If Truth was free to do her telling as she wished, she would admit for him that he was rather sorry at what he had said to his brother, that he was reading in his heart of hearts to release his hold on their most-recent of quarrels, that he had answered more out of surprise than any depth of real feeling. But Pride and Habit were stronger masters by far over Loki, and he was not about to begin that blessed and rewarding habit of truth-telling at this time of his life, not to another soul. Bad enough, in his opinion, that he'd admitted of that – as he called it – _weakness_ – to his own.

Laying aside the little book he rose to his feet and, stiff-backed, he stretched both arms above his head, which member – presently, cocked a little to one side, as he frowned.

He'd thought he heard something by the door.

But it was no matter, the sound was gone from his ears in one moment, and out of his mind the next.

Taking his place again he set about to read and he might have kept on reading God alone knows how long if it was not for one singular event.

He heard that sound again.

Irritably, for he was not one to be trifled with, Loki laid aside his book and without ceremony he flung open the door.

But nothing stood without to greet his fearsome look. There was no one rushing down the hall to reach the saving doors of the elevator. There was no movement of the grates in the ceiling.

The fact persisted that there was no one there.

Frowning in some confusion, for it was a rare day that Loki's ears played him false, he looked over the hall once again – as if to be _sure_ of that which his senses had already given him ample assurances of. Deciding it was beneath him to start so at what was evidently nothing, he shut the door and locked it once more.

Then there was a sound at the window, far below in the street, as of many persons making exodus from the building. Which was in fact, exactly what it was. Watching out the window, Loki made careful count of their number to be sure. He knew for fact that several of them had gone about errands in the morning, and this would evidently be what was left of their band.

He was not upset by being left out of their otherwise inclusive plans, in fact, he was rather pleased by it. No more remained the pressure to be as one with these 'heroes'. He was to be left to do as he pleased, which was the place he was most accustomed to taking among his fellows. And for all its faults it was known, and thus bore none of the spectral terror of any other way of life.

As he stood alone in the Tower, by the window, looking out at the grey and dismal streets below…

There came the sound again.

Turning on his heel Loki reached for the doorknob.

Then he paused.

He heard nothing, and the thought of opening the door yet another time made him feel he was playing the fool. So, instead, he checked the lock, and, finding it secure, he retreated to his chair and took up his book as aimlessly as possible, all the while keeping no little attention focused on the door.

As he laid his head back in the chair his glance happened upon the old coo-coo-clock. It was one of Thor's fancies that he'd picked up Norns knew how long ago and insisted on keeping up on the top of the shelf with the foundless promise of one day fixing it that it might tell the time. There was no end to the amusement he was provided by the little mechanical bird housed therein. As Loki watched the broken timepiece, the minute hand began to move. It moved so slowly, that at the outset it scarcely caught his eye; but soon it moved more quickly, drawing toward the count of twelve.

This might have lasted half a minute, or a minute, but it seemed an hour. The hands ceased as they had begun, stopping at the apex of the hour with the little bird popping in and out, in and out, 'coo-coo', 'coo-coo', until Loki got to his feet, determined to make a stop of it.

The chiming stopped as it had begun, suddenly. It was succeeded by a clanking noise, deep down below on of the lower levels of the tower; as if some person were dragging a heavy chain up the staircase three floors down.

Standing as he was to inspect the clock for any sign of interference, Loki cast a glance of disgust in the direction of the witless door. The following moment he recalled that his solitude in the tower was proven fact. His following three thoughts were first: that no unlawful intruder of Avengers Tower would move about so brazenly. Second: that spirits of the dead were often depicted as bearing the chains forged of their past crimes, and third: that Jol was the time spirits most-frequently chose to claim recompense from their living debtors, due to the thinness between their realms at the turn of the year.

These thoughts he dismissed out of hand as ridiculous fancies of an over-active mind. His mother had been known often in the days of his youth to praise the strength of his imagination, and it was not a trait he had found to be dimmed within him by time.

But he heard the noise again, nearer this time.

Flushed with frustration he fingered the knife he kept always to hand, certain with one part of his mind that this was no more than an elaborate prank played on him by one of his fellows, and just as certain with another, perhaps wiser, element that it was a caller of quite another sort.

And then he heard the noise much louder, on the floor below; then coming up the stairs; then coming straight towards his door.

His color changed, though, when, without a pause, it came through the door, and passed into the room before his eyes.

The same face: the very same. Coulson in his white shirt, grey suitcoat, tie and smug smile. The chain he drew was clasped about his middle. It was long and wound about him like a tail; and it was made (for Loki observed it closely) of cash-boxes, keys, padlocks, ledgers, deeds, and heavy purses wrought in steel.

With a quick remembrance of the weight in his hand Loki swung his arm and the knife slid with practiced grace from his fingers to slice the air, dissolving into the space before it could pierce the phantom's chest.

Giving the Specter little more than a surprised start in the form of satisfaction, Loki drew back and folded his arms across his chest. He held his head high, every inch the prince he had been raised, even at the feet of this Ghoul. "What do you want?"

"Much!" – Coulson's voice, no doubt about it.

Knowing that phantoms often hide themselves in another's form he asked, "Who are you?"

"Ask me who I _was_ ," it demanded.

"Who _were_ you then?" said Loki, raising his voice and one side of his mouth. "You're particular – for a shade."

"In my life I was your enemy, Phil Coulson."

"Mm." Loki regarded the Specter with his head a little to one side – the look of a man not yet fully convinced. "Can you sit down?"  
"I can."

Loki indicated a chair with his hand, "Do it then."

"You don't believe in me," observed the Ghost when once the seat was taken.

"I don't," said Loki as he took his old place and sat opposite, but at some distance from, the Visitor.

"What evidence would you have of my reality, beyond that of your senses?"

There was a look almost of amusement on Loki's face as he leaned his chin to one hand, never taking his eyes from the Phantom. "I don't know," he admitted at length.

"Why do you doubt your senses?"

"Because," Loki straightened, lifting one narrow hand and with a subtle twist of that fingers set the coo-coo-clock off again as it had been going only moments before, seemingly of its own volition. After what time he deemed sufficient he closed his fist and with that motion the raucous sound stopped. "They remain only _one_ layer of a complex whole," Loki informed the Ghost, "And a fallible veneer at that. They may easily be fooled. And I would doubt my sight now even were there no others of like abilities to mine 'in the wings', as it were."

The Ghost moved easily in its chair, crossing one ankle over the opposite knee and plucking some imperfection of dust from the pressed line of its trousers. "They are not here," it observed.

"Convenient," Loki answered.

"And," the Ghost raised a dryly amused brow, "do they know how to raise the dead?"

This was met with a slow smile. "Do I?"

Loki moved his hands and something subtle and licking like flame flickered about his long fingers, shooting out to the sides of the room and splitting in a flash of pale green light to reveal a horde of decaying warriors of past millennia charging forward.

How terrible they were! Flesh wasted with centuries in the tomb, clothing rotted away to reveal naught but the bones that merciful Nature hides from the eyes of Man! They bore decayed and rusted weapons, and moved with such certitude that there could be no doubting what intent they had.

Coulson's ghost made no move, however, and the apparitions vanished as they collided with It, with the furnishings of the room, with the walls and the door. They dissipated in pale green mist and vanished from sight.

Loki sprawled in his own chair, one bent finger against his lips, his eyes unwaveringly on the Intruder, the first faint signs of misgiving apparent in the space between his brows.

Upon the disappearance of the last warrior, the Ghost gave a little cough. It got to its feet and straightened its jacket.

Then the spirit raised a frightful cry, and shook its chain with a dismal and appalling noise.

Loki's brows rose as he stared at the Apparition.

But the Ghost was not through. It strode forward in two quick steps that befitted a man of far more lively estate than it, and it took the front of Loki's shirt boldly in its ghostly hands and it _shook_ him.

So stunned was Loki by the sudden movement, the audacity and the utter _solidity_ of his assailant, that he did not make any move or sound of protest until his shirt was already firmly in the Spirit's grasp.

"Man of the worldly mind!" the Ghost repeated, "do you believe in me or not?" it released him to fall back into his chair, gripping unconsciously the arms of it in his hands.

"I do," said Loki, "I must. But why have you come?"

The Ghost retreated to its own chair and sat itself demurely down.

"It is required of every man," the Ghost returned, peaceably, "that the spirit within him should walk abroad among his fellow men, and travel far and wide; and if that spirit goes not forth in life, it is condemned to do so after death. It is doomed to wander through the world and witness what it cannot share, but might have shared on earth, and turned to happiness."

"You are fettered," said Loki, sitting back, pale and shaken – in spirit as well as body – by the Ghost. "Tell me why."

"I wear the chain I forged in life," replied the Ghost. "I made it link by link, and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own free will and of my own free will I wore it. Is its pattern strange to _you_?"

"You…were my _enemy_ ," Loki pointed out, "Yours was the side of the 'Just Defender.'"

"Or would you know," pursued the Ghost, "the weight and length of the strong coil you bear yourself? It was full as heavy and long as this several long years ago. You have labored on it, since. It is a ponderous chain!"

"I have since joined your past cause," Loki protested, "Albeit," he mused, "unwillingly…Perhaps _that_ would be the labor you speak of?"

"I have no comfort to give," the Ghost replied airily, and – Loki thought – unreasonably, as he had _asked_ no such thing. "It comes from other regions, Loki Odinson, and it is conveyed by other ministers, to other kinds of men. Nor can I tell you what I would. A very little more is all permitted to me. I cannot rest, I cannot stay, I cannot linger anywhere."

Loki was only just paying the Ghost mind on this soliloquy in which it indulged. Finding its preamble foundless against his question he wondered aloud, "And yet," he said, "your companions always viewed you as a good man…"

"Business!" cried the Ghost, "Mankind was my business."

Raising his glance, Loki scrutinized the Ghost. The thought occurred to him that – whatever else it was – it must be quite mad.

"The common welfare was my business; charity, mercy, forbearance and benevolence were, all, my business. The dealings of my trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business!"

"Stop." Quite perplexed by this time, Loki raised on finger, shaking his head at the Specter's continuing speech. "I was under the impression," he said, "That you were in the employ of an organization _dedicated_ to 'the common welfare'."

"Besides HYDRA," the Specter shrugged. "But I had no part in that."

"Then why –"

"Hear me!" cried the Ghost, "My time is nearly gone. How it is that I appear before you in a shape that you can see, I may not tell. I have sat invisible beside you many and many a day."

It was not an agreeable idea. Loki grimaced. "I had no _idea_ that my goings-about held such interest for you."

"That is no light part of my penance," the Ghost assured him.

"I'd assume not."

"I am here today to warn you, that you have yet a chance and hope of escaping my fate. A chance and hope of my procuring, Loki."

"Why," Loki protested, "would _you_ do such a thing? You _are_ aware that it was _I_ who dealt you your killing blow?"

"You will be haunted –" resumed the Ghost implacably.

"Oh for Heaven's sake!"

"–by Three Spirits."

"Doesn't," Loki frowned confusedly, "doesn't the fact that you would even _consider_ this presuppose adequate goodness on your part?"

"You will be haunted by Three Spirits." Coulson's ghost insisted.

Irritated, Loki relinquished the argument. "Is this the chance and hope you mentioned?"

"It is."

Loki gave a short nod. "Then I think I'd rather not."

"Without their visits," said the Ghost, "you cannot hope to shun the path I tread. Expect the first when the bell tolls one."  
Pressing the bridge of his nose between the pad of his thumb and his forefinger, Loki sighed as he crossed one knee over the other. "I suppose they couldn't be bothered to come all at once and allow me time to myself."

Coulson spared him a glance dryer than many a desert before continuing, "Expect the second when the bell tolls three. And the third, more mercurial, will appear in his own good time."

"Will they _all_ come to me in the forms of persons I have slain over the years?" Loki asked pleasantly, brushing a spec from the arm of his chair, "Or shall I have some spectral form with which to contend?"

"They shall not all come as I, guised in human flesh," the Ghost replied. "It is likely they shall not deign to show themselves at all. Being unencumbered by mortal regard, likely they shall inspire the minds of your companions here and speak through them for your betterment."

"You have yet to tell me why you've come," Loki said, raising his eyes, "And why now."

"Look to see me no more!" the Ghost exclaimed, "And look that, for your own sake, you remember what has passed between us!"

"When it had said these words, the specter took its chains and wound them over and around its arm. The apparition walked backward from him, then vanished as it had come through the solid workings of his door.

Loki followed to the door: alive with curiosity. He examined the entry. It was locked, as he had locked it with his own hands, and the bolt was undisturbed. He flicked it back with his hand, and, taking the knob, he turned it and drew it back, revealing none in the hall beside himself, and no sign that any had been there beyond what traffic he had come to expect.

Frowning at the smoothly polished wood of the floor, Loki scowled. He shut the door and locked it tightly closed once again, and, turning about he nearly tripped upon the very knife he had cast at his intruder. Stooping slowly to pluck it up, he returned to the seat where only moments before he'd conversed with a man whom he had killed so few years before with his own hand.

Inspecting the blade with a keen eye, a chill that he had not experienced since his so-distant childhood settled over his heart. It was a feeling he did not sanction within his breast and, thrusting it aside he secreted the blade once more in its place and glanced to the clock that stood on the low bookshelf. It was quarter past the hour of twelve.

He took up the book he had set aside, and proceeded to await the coming of the first among his expected visitors.

 **~.~.~*~.~.~ ~.~.~*~.~.~**

"How'd I do?" the little man asked, brushing what he could of the flour off of the shoulders of his suit coat.

The flour had been a touch the man had suggested. "It'll add a little accuracy," he'd said.

Strange hadn't bothered to ask him what he meant by that, or how he presumed to know the dead.

Strange had only just completed the last verse of the spell that had dropped them in a little side street several blocks from Avengers Tower. "You missed your true calling," he answered, dropping his hands to his sides.

"I studied the part on the ride over."

"You have, a remarkable memory," Strange told him.

Coulson shrugged passionlessly. "I had a score to settle." Strange thought he might just have noticed the first twitch of a smile in the corner of the man's mouth. "It was a nice catch with that knife."

"Thank you. I," Strange straightened his sleeve, proceeding with what he considered due caution, "understand that the majority of the world thinks you're dead."

"All but a few choice individuals." Coulson confirmed. "And I'd prefer to keep it that way."

Strange nodded his head, "I understand."

"There are definite perks to being deceased." Coulson said. "You know, have your own little Richenbach."

Something tugged at the edges of Strange's perception, like a memory, or the dream of a memory…

Coulson's voice brought him back to the snowy street. "You ever been to Tahiti?" he asked, pleasantly.

"No," Strange rubbed one temple, "no, I can't say that I have."

A black car with tinted windows was cruising down the street, arcing toward the curb on which they stood.

"It's a magical place," Coulson said, stepping backwards into the street. "Here's my ride." Pausing, the man held put one hand. "A pleasure doing business with you, Doctor," he said, a glint in his eye, "Don't be a stranger."

Then he got onto the car, and it pulled off down the street.

"Oh ha ha," Strange said. He readied his spell.

(earlier that morning -11:09 AM)

Wilson shook his head, "That's messed up, Man," he said. He rubbed his face with one hand. "It's like something out of a Dicken's novel."

" _A Christmas Carol_. Yep."

Without breaking eye-contact with the door, Tony abruptly turned on one heel. The coffee in his cup sloshed over the side. "And we're gonna do something about it. Come on."

It took Wilson a moment to snap to and follow Stark. "What exactly are _we_ gonna do about it?" he asked.

Stark stopped as abruptly as he'd started and turned. "What are we gonna do about it?" he asked. "We're gonna meddle, Sam. Because it's Christmas time, and I'm bored. Now, _I_ ," he used the cell phone in his hand to touch his chest, "am calling in a favor. _You_ ," he tapped the middle of Sam's chest with two fingers, "are gonna go assemble the Avengers. Chop chop. We're on a schedule, Wilson."

* * *

 **Hope you all enjoyed yet another Sherlock reference ;)**

 **I felt like I should admit that Agents of Shield (at least the first season - which is the only one I've seen yet) is canon in this universe earlier on, but none of the characters show up EXCEPT Coulson, and I didn't want to spoil the surprise of his showing up here. I hope you all enjoyed that ;)**


	20. A Christmas Carol - The Past

**Stave II: The First of the Three Spirits**

 **The Ghost of Christmas Past**

* * *

The knock came at precisely one o'clock.

Stark and his troop had returned no little time ago and the various sounds of their goings about had long since faded into the background of Loki's consciousness to the point that the rap on the door very nearly startled him.

Lifting his head he glanced at the clock, and, finding the time accurate to the Specter's predictions, he gave a breath like a sigh and laid the book aside.

Steve Rogers stood uncomfortably on the opposite side of the door. "Hey," he smiled.

Loki was unimpressed. "Hi," he said. "Can I help you?"

"No, not really," Rogers rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm going to visit Peggy later and have some time to kill between now and then, so I was thinking I might go out for a walk. It's a lovely day out and I thought I'd ask –"

"I'll come."

"You –" his face lit with surprise. "You don't _have_ to. I'm perfectly fine going on my own…"

"Spoken as a true American," Loki gave him a saccharine smile. "Allow me to get my coat and we'll be on our way."

Ten minutes later they were out in the sun and the snow about half a city block from the shelter of Avenger's Tower with their hands in their pockets to fend off the bite that remained in the air.

"So," Rogers started.

His face tipped to the sun, Loki closed his eyes for just a moment, resigning himself to his fate.

"How are you enjoying the…" Roger's fumbled, "…Midgardian Christmas experience?"

Loki smiled thinly without opening his eyes. "Just Christmas, Captain. It's peculiar to Earth."

"Oh."

Their feet crunched in the snow.

"Well," the captain began doggedly again, "Do you like it?"

Loki inhaled the cold air and held it until his lungs ached. Breathing out, he startled himself by laughing. "No," he admitted. "No I don't."

Rogers split a smile. "These past days…" he admitted meaningfully.

"Stark makes an argument for seclusion."

Rogers ran a hand up and past his hairline, "A _stunning_ argument. But, you know," he gave that little half-smirk his friends knew so well, "you can't _blame_ him."

Loki snorted. " _I_ can," he said. "I'll leave your morals to you, Captain."

"That's not what I –"

"I meant it in jest," Loki said, silkily.

Finding himself oddly unwilling to let their unexpected moment of comradery go to its rest so easily, he asked, "What's changed?"

He was careful not to look at the captain as he said it. To watch for his response would be to threaten, and he did not wish to intimidate Rogers just now.

Rogers was looking at him though, as was his prerogative in the situation. "You want to know about Christmas? In the old days?"

"As your pleasure dictates." Loki still did no more than glance in the captain's direction, "I have always had a scholastic interest in the traditional," he buffered the captain's surprise, "and I think you more qualified than the others in that regard. If," he added, deferentially, "you would like to tell me."

"Well," it was Roger's turn to look straight ahead. "It was a lot quieter, for one. Church was very important, and family. – Presents were secondary. Nothing like the lists kids write today. Any kid would think himself lucky to get – I don't know," he tipped his head like a shrug, "a new shirt and a pocket knife. So I guess that's the biggest difference – the materialism."

"That must have come as a shock," Loki prompted.

Roger's, it seemed, did not need the push. He nodded an acknowledgement, continuing, "My mom and I – we weren't well off. My dad was killed in the Grea – in," he corrected himself, putting his hands in his pockets and watching his feet, "World War One, before I was born. So, for a while there it was just me and my mom. Then…I met Buck. He," raising his head, the captain gave a fond laugh, "He was a year ahead of me in school and twice my size. He caught some kids trying to steal money off me and we fought them off. Together. And that," he shrugged, gradually losing the brightness from his face and voice, "that was how everything was after that."

Rogers faded off, watching his feet as they moved mechanically through the snow.

Loki knew the history of the captain's friend, Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier. He recognized the ache that underlay the Captain's words. The stubborn clinging of memories that refused to die.

Loki watched the roads ahead of them, and he said nothing.

The pause lasted less than a minute before Captain Rogers remembered himself with a little shake of his head.

"After Buck and I got to know one another and his parents heard how hard-by my mom and I were, they…" he smiled. "They would help us out in any way they could. Especially at Christmas time. We'd go over to their house for Christmas Eve. They'd have the house all decorated, and a tree. Most people didn't have trees then,"

"And I'd thought twenty-seven was the usual number."

Rogers laughed. "The house, was _full_ of kids. Buck had a younger brother and _two_ younger sisters and they'd be all over the place…"

Loki listened, largely without comment, drawn into the images that Steve painted of a world that was still going on all around them but was at the same time so distant. He could point out the alleys and restaurants where the stories had taken place, but they were those places no more, buried by time until all but the barest hint of what they had once been remained.

The echo of the past was more distant in the Realm Eternal.

Loki had never spent over-much time with the captain. He was put-off by the manner he had taken as a kind of superiority, and by the fact that Rogers was Thor's friend, more nearly than the others were.

Grudgingly, over the course of that hour, Loki was led to admit that there was much about the captain that he had not known.

The air was cold inside his lungs. "I never took you for a storyteller, Steven."

"I never – I," he glanced from his wristwatch, to Loki, then back again, flustered.

Loki frowned. "What?"

"I'm sorry, I lost track of time –"

"Do you need to be somewhere?"

"Yeah, and it's not far, but I got carried away and I promised Peggy I'd visit… Do you mind…?"

Loki decided that what he was trying to ask was if he minded accompanying him. "I'll not come in," he decided, "But I will wait for you."

"They won't let me stay more than an hour–"

"Take your time."

And as he waited in the entry room of the home where Peggy Carter had her residence, Loki flipped through magazines. The overhead lights glossed fluorescent over the slickly inked pages advertising perfumes and the latest diets or scandals. He could feel the nurse at the admissions desk watching him. Loki was thinking of Steve Rogers. Of all he'd lost, or gained. He thought of permanence.

He fumbled with the complexities of such ideas as _home,_ as _belonging_ , as _brotherhood_.

He thought…perhaps…

Perhaps he'd been overly harsh with his brother.

* * *

(earlier that morning -11:16 AM)

Tony looked over his assembled avengers, then he looked dispassionately at Wilson. "That's _all_?"

Wilson shook his head, "Should've nabbed 'em earlier, Stark. They all had plans." Squaring his feet, he re-folded his arms.

"Figures."

Steve furrowed his brow. "What's this all about, Tony?"

"In the grand scheme of things," Tony looked over the assembled group who had congregated conveniently on two couches on the same side of the room, "it's about the team. And our team is our family, right?"

"Where you going with this?" Wilson asked. He and Rogers were flanking one of the couches.

Tony held up one finger, without looking at Wilson. "Bear with me," he said. "Our team is our family, and we wanna help out the members of our family, right?"

The Avengers on the couch nodded their heads.

"Of course we do. Now, Sam and I just witnessed – and Clint can testify – abundant evidence that Thor has a problem. And I called you all here today, to address that fact, and to propose a solution."

"What's his problem?" Steve asked.

Tony looked at him. "You're killing me. Guess."

Steve gave a resigned nod. "Loki."

"Ding!" Tony snapped his fingers and indicated Rogers with a pointed finger. "You, O Captain, My Captain – _if_ you will take the time to help out a team member in need in this most _festive_ time of year – have an important role to play in my scheme. You up for it?"

Grinning, Wilson turned on him, "I don't know _how_ you're gonna get out of this one, Cap."

Steve sighed. When he raised his head, he'd smiled. "What do you want me to do, Tony?"

"We have a winner. I'm gonna need you to keep Thor's Problem occupied and out of the Tower. Starting at," Tony glanced at his watch, "one o'clock. I need him back by…three..? Screw it, yes. Three. Deal?"

Steve considered. "Fine. But Peggy's expecting me at two."

"Bring him back. I don't care. Square deal," dismissing him, Tony turned to the couch, "As for _you_ –"

"Wait," Wilson said, "You just want him out of the Tower. For an hour."

"Yeah," Tony flicked a look from Wilson, to Steve, "or less." Seeing that Steve was still watching him for explanation, Tony gave an aggravated breath and turned to face him." Look. Use your imagination. Tell him about the old days. Answer his questions. Be his friend. Buy him a coffee. I don't care. Just be at his door at one o'clock, and have him back by three. And for God's sake _be on time_."

Steve nodded assent. "What's all this about, Tony?" he asked again.

Tony turned to the couch, "Just helping out a friend in need."

* * *

(later that afternoon -3:01PM)

Standing just inside the kitchen door, Tony sipped a hot chocolate and scrolled through updates on his phone. He heard the door open, and the murmur of two voices from the vestibule. The two, were joined by a third, then the door opened again and the voices stopped.

A minute later, Tony heard a step in the hall.

The screen of Tony's phone lit up.

NEW MESSAGE FROM: Tiny Guy

It's on

Reading the message quickly, Tony flicked it to _ignore_ and pocketed the phone just as Steve Rogers came into the room.

Choosing a mug from the rack, Steve poured himself a coffee and pivoted to face him. "So," he said, "what did I just do?"

Tony sipped his hot chocolate. "Congratulations. You just helped make a Nordic Deity's dream come true. How does it feel?"

Leaning back against the counters, Steve shook his head. He smiled. "Like I might be helping to pull off a heist. I don't like blind faith, Tony. It hasn't served me well in the past."

"You don't trust me? That hurts, Rogers. That really hurts."

Steve chuckled.

"What did you do," Tony asked, "introduce them?"

"He sat in the waiting room."

Tony looked at him, incredulous. "You _left_ him in the waiting room?"

Steve raised one eyebrow, "Trust goes both ways, Tony"

"Touché. And since you've been such a good sport," Tony stepped forward and clapped a hand on Steve's shoulder. "I'll tell you what. You tell me how it went, and I'll tell you why."

"It went pretty well, actually," Steve said. "I wasn't sure."

"Neither was he. He was receptive?"

"Surprisingly so. Why?"

"Well done," Tony patted his shoulder, "Ghost of Christmas Past."

Tony sauntered around him and went down the steps between rooms to the living area. Steve pivoted to follow him. " _What?_ "

"You know," Tony said, "Dickens."

"I know _A Christmas Carol_ , Tony. What did you just have me do?"

"It'll work out in the end, trust me."

Steve's mouth made a thin line. "I hope so, Tony. I don't think he takes well to tricks."

"Yeah, well." Tony sipped his coffee, "'Tis the Season."

Steve shook his head, turning to go back into the kitchen, muttering, "How have you _survived_ this long?"

Tony smirked. "Dumb luck and a deal with the devil."

Steve looked back and in spite of himself, he smiled.

* * *

 **Happy New Year! Here's hoping your 2019 is everything you hope it'll be ;)**

 **Yeah, not gonna be done when I said it would. Surprise, surprise. I'm done making predictions about my stories.** **I can assure you, however, we ARE in the last leg of this lengthy (hopefully enjoyable?) journey.**

 **Let me know what you think ;)**


	21. A Christmas Carol - The Present

**Stave III: The Second of the Three Spirits**

 **The Ghost of Christmas Present**

* * *

"Oh, hey guys," Lang was wearing his coat and was pulling on gloves as he emerged from the hallway. He had a pack slung over one shoulder.

Rogers was hanging up his coat.

Loki, paused.

"Have a nice walk?" Lang asked, "I was just going…Hey," he scratched the side of his head, "Loki, do you…I'm just…I mean, I know you were just out…"

Loki turned to face the captain, who he knew to be in the habit of wearing a watch. "Would you happen to know the time?"

"Uh, yeah," Rogers said. "Just a…" he tugged up his sleeve, "Three o'clock," he said.

Recalling the Spirit's words, Loki gave a resigned nod, and re-buttoned his coat.

Lang smiled at him. "Awesome. So," he asked, as they stepped out into the cold, "got somewhere to be?" Fingering some sequence into the front of his phone, Lang slid it back into his pocket.

Loki considered lying in a bid for a shorter 'lesson'. Reluctantly, he decided against it. "No. Have we a destination?"

"Oh. Yeah," Lang answered, "a couple, actually. I've gotta pick up something form home and then I was gonna go pick up Cassie. Thought maybe I'd bring her by to meet the Avengers."

Lang was a good head shorter than Loki, but his steps were quick and lively.

"Cassie is your…daughter?" Loki guessed. He knew that he'd heard the man use the name before.

"My daughter," Lang said, "Yep."

Glancing aside at the man, Loki noticed a certain tightness about his mouth, and a quickness to his eye. Lang, he decided, was nervous. Loki turned his head to hide the shadow of a smug smile.

As he turned his head, a car rolled by them, blaring Christmas carols at top volume.

"She's eight," Lang said.

Loki watched as the car rounded a corner a hundred yards ahead of them and the unruly noise started to fade.

"You know?" Lang glanced at him with a quirk of a smile, "I think she'd like you."

Loki felt one eyebrow go up as he glanced at Lang. Possibly the man was not so unnerved by him as he'd hoped. "Truly?" he asked. Then, considering, he tipped his head, "Small females seem to have that tendency," he allowed.

"You like kids?"

Not particularly enjoying the conversation, Loki continued to watch the cars in the road. "No."

Lang laughed, "You never really know _what_ they're are gonna think, do you?"

"I suppose not."

"They're unpredictable."

Slowly, Loki let his eyes drift shut as he felt resignation wash over him.

* * *

They arrived some twenty minutes later at the crowded building where Lang made his home, and went inside the dirty, throbbing structure with Lang all the time trying his best to excuse the place and to explain how he had come to live in it.

Loki gathered that the apartment was rented in the name of Lang's former cell-mate, Luis, and that rent – like everything else – didn't come cheap for ex-cons, so they boarded together with two others of their associates. Music pulsed through the floors and the stained plaster crumbled under the constant pounding. The broken-off bits littered the floor.

Loki didn't understand how living in such a place was better than living under a bridge, but chose to keep that to himself. It would be demeaning to acknowledge the wreck of it; his one concession to the squalor was not to breathe too deeply.

Lang rapped twice on the door with the back of his knuckles before opening it. "Hey guys," he said. "Just here to pick up a few things. Where's Luis?"

"Should be back here any time." The ebony-skinned man was sitting with his elbows on the table and the hood of his sweatshirt up. He looked Loki over without any change of expression. "'Sup Lang," he asked. His eyes slid from Loki, to Lang, who'd slung the pack from his shoulder and was moving toward a doorway. "Who's your friend?"

"Uh, Dave, this is…Loki," Lang said. "Loki, Dave. And that's Kurt." Lang gestured to a man at the table. The man did not look up from his screen, but raised one hand in a laconic wave. Lang looked at Loki, uncertainty plain on his face, then said, "…I'll be right back," and vanished around the corner.

"So," Dave drawled.

Loki turned his head to face the man at the table. He had the wire from a pair of earbuds and he was spinning it around two fingers. He eyed Loki suspiciously, " _Loki_ , Loki?"

Loki's eyes glittered. "Loki, Prince of Asgard, Rightful King of Jotunheim, God of Mischief." He cut a mocking half-bow.

One brow crooked up on Dave's forehead. "Loki…the supervillain?" he asked, flicking his wrist to make the tiny speakers spin.

Loki felt his mouth tighten, but the other man, to one at the computer, beat him to any kind of reply.

"Yes, Dave," Kurt said, dryly, never glancing up from the screen at which he worked. " _That_ Loki. From T.V. New York."

While it wasn't the introduction he would have chosen, it was something. Admiration began the reconfiguration of Dave's face and Loki felt some of the acid dissipate on his tongue.

"So, Loki," Dave said, straightening and resting both elbows on the table, casting off the wires as the dull little things they were, "You're a supervillain. What the hell you doing hanging around with this clown?" he jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the doorway through which Lang had vanished.

"You know," Loki said, folding his arms and regarding Dave with no little amusement, "I'm hardly certain myself."

"Impulsive," Kurt hummed, almost to himself, the white light washing his face. Loki thought that his accent was not dissimilar to Wanda's.

Lang came back into the room and glanced over all of them, assuring himself that nothing was on fire, then wordlessly slung his backpack onto the counter and began rearranging things inside it.

Dave nodded at Kurt, "Yeah," he said. "Hey," to Loki, "we could use a guy like you on our next gig."

"Guys, _no_ ," Lang groaned.

Dave twisted in his chair, "Hey, he's a big kid. Let him decide for himself." Expectantly, he turned his look on Loki.

Laugh caught in the back of his throat, Loki thought that this excursion was on the short list of the best things he'd ever been coerced into doing.

Then the door opened, and all eyes were turned on the small man in the doorway. He wore a cap and an untucked shirt and carried grocery bags in both hands. "Hey guys," he said, eyes flicking uncertainly from Loki, to Dave, to Kurt and back to Loki. "What'd I miss?" Then his dark eyes slid past them and his face lit up, "Hey! Lang! My Man! Whatcha doing up here this time o'day, Bro?"

Lang had come across the room and met the little man in the middle of it. He slapped hands with him, "Hey Luis," he said.

"And what _you_ doin' here, Tiger?" Luis eyed Loki up and down, "You dressed up _real_ fine for somebody comin' down t'this part o'town. He you're friend, Lang?" He indicated Loki with his thumb, "You be careful out there," he shook his head, worry creasing his brow as he looked Loki over, "There's _dangerous_ types out there, Man,"

"Dude," Dave interrupted. He was fiddling with the wires again, "you don't have to worry about him," he smirked.

"If he's a friend of Lang's…" Luis insisted. Turning on his friend, Luis gave Lang's shoulder half a slap, "You gotta teach your friend better than that."

"He is Loki of Asgard," Kurt said from behind his screen. "King of Mischeif."

One corner of Loki's mouth twitched. " _God_ ," he corrected, "of Mischief."

Luis turned on him, his eyes huge in his round face. "Wait," he said, "you're Thor's brother? The one with the _horns_ ," Luis did something with his hands by the sides of his head that Loki refused to recognize as an imitation of his helmet, "and the _aliens_?" Luis beamed. "That was dope, Dog! Crazy!"

Loki's grimace faded to surprise.

"Luis," Lang put a stilling hand on the little man's shoulder, "it's great to see you, Buddy, but we should go,"

"Just a second, Bro. Just a second. It's a funny story. See, that reminds me of this guy, whose sister was a friend of my cousin –"

"No, seriously, Luis," Lang opened the door and motioned Loki through it, "we _have to go_."

Loki followed Lang's directive.

"See ya 'round, Loki," Dave said, sinking back in his chair.

"Yes," Kurt glanced up just for a moment. "Goodbye Mischief King."

"Okay, next time, next time." Luis waved. "Don't be a stranger, Bro!" he grinned. Peering to see into the crack of the door as Lang shut it, Luis put up one thumb, "Huge fan!"

The door closed and cut off Loki's view of them. Lang stood still for one moment, with his hand on the knob. Then, shaking his head, he turned towards to the stairs. "They're…" Lang said, eyes trained on the uneven staircase, "…an acquired taste. Sorry, I…didn't actually expect any of them to be home."

"Not at all," Loki said smoothly. His lips twitched with the beginning of a smile that he coolly repressed. "Did you find what you came for?"

"Oh yeah, that was no problem," he grinned up at Loki over his shoulder, "It's just something I picked up for Cassie."

Lang stepped off the last of the narrow steps and moved past the two women who were smoking in the doorway. The music from some nearby room was pulsing in the walls and Loki noticed thin peelings of paint trembling and dropping from the ceiling onto the floor. He followed Lang from under the greedy eyes of the females into the fresh bite of the breeze without. Tipping his chin back, he took a long breath.

"She's important to you," he commented, as he followed Lang down the crowded street.

"Yeah," Lang smiled fondly. "I don't see her much, but she's –" he shrugged, "she's the reason I do what I do. I mean, the whole 'Ant Man' thing is great – don't get me wrong – but at the end of the day I do it so she can think her dad's not just another ex-con, you know?"

Lang glanced lightly over his shoulder as he spoke, his eyes alive with something Loki did not quite understand. He pressed his lips together, mm-ing some lofty kind of acknowledgement that meant nothing and turned his eyes on the street to preserve that front to which Lang was accustomed. Memory was a thing best tended to in private. Especially a memory as warped and twisted as was his.

Lang chattered obliviously, glancing at his watch, "Anywhere _you_ want to go? Coffee? Or – something? I've got a while before I can pick up Cassie…"

And anything was better than dwelling on the disquietude that plagued his unguarded moments. Loki denied any strong opinion on the matter, then suggested a coffee shop that appeared like an oasis in the desert around the nearest corner as an easy alternative to wandering the streets in the cold.

Lang cheerfully agreed.

The shop as they entered was warm and dimly lit. The air was heady with the scent of the drink it promised, and filled with the soft chatter of spoken word as the people within clustered in their twos and threes to discuss their lives and doings. Loki slid into it as easily as any distraction. What made it stand out among the rest was the way Lang immediately stiffened in the doorway. "Oh," he said, lamely, "Maybe…a different coffee shop?"

Taking in his companion's unease, Loki frowned. He followed Lang's eyes to a small man with thinning hair, hunched alone at a stool – not unlike Stark's bar stools – that stood by the counter. There were several empty stools in his vicinity, though the place was otherwise bustling. Glancing back at Lang, Loki didn't quite bother to check his smile. "This place seems fine to me," he said. And, ignoring Lang's quiet protestations, he made his way into the shop, and over to the soft lump that was no-doubt as old acquaintance of Lang's.

Diverting briefly, watching from the tail of his eye as Lang began to relax, Loki ordered a coffee, then, drink in hand, dismissed Lang's renewed unease entirely and went to the slumped, soft little man. "Is this seat taken?" he asked coolly.

"No," the man said. His voice was thin and nasal, his body grotesque. "Have a seat." His mouth twisted into something that was like a smirk. "Pull up some chair."

Lang made a move toward the door, then paused and checked his phone. Grimacing, he pocketed the device and went grudgingly up to the smiling barista. He managed to summon up a smile in return.

The man was scrutinizing Loki with small, weasely looking eyes. "Do I know you?" he asked.

Loki settled on the stool with his coffee on the bar in front of him. "I'm afraid I do suffer some notoriety," he said, "but personally, no, I don't believe we've met."

From the corner of his eye, Loki watched as Lang hopelessly confused the young barista by turning three consecutive drink orders into pastries before finally giving up with an apologetic smile and telling her to make him anything. Anything hot.

She put in the order, glancing at Lang furtively.

"I _do_ know you," the creature decided finally. "From TV." The man leaned forward, tiny eyes alight and brows raised as though divulging some great and thrilling secret. "You're that supervillain from a few years back who got roped into working with the goody-goodies, aren't you?"

Loki set his cup down. "I am." The coffee was hot and tasted bitter on his tongue. He had yet to understand what Thor saw in it.

To his left, he saw Lang faltering. He had his drink in both hands, and wavered between the empty seat beside Loki, and the door. His eyes lingered longingly on the door. The corner of Loki's mouth lifted in a smirk.

"I can…" the grotesque little man leaned yet nearer, "…get you a way out," he offered. He winked several times.

"Really?" Loki regarded him, hiding none of his amusement. "I'm intrigued. But I'm afraid you have me at something of a disadvantage. You seem to know who _I_ am…"

Lang was swallowing his distaste with obvious difficulty and making his way across the coffee shop.

"The name's Dale," the man said, putting out one pallid hand. Loki ignored it. "Or at least," Dale lowered his hand, "that's what they call me in… _daylight_. In 'the business' they know me as…" he glanced furtively one way and then the other, "DeathRider."

Loki set his cup very slowly on the wood, taking his time to swallow the inopportune mouthful of coffee he had taken. "Really?" he asked, once he could speak.

"They do," Dale said proudly. Glancing one way and then another, he drew his stool marginally closer. "I run a _Baskin Robbins_ joint during the _day_ , but what I really do is something a little more _private_ , if you understand. I'm a kind of _private entrepreneur_." He smoothed a flat palm across the wood. "I can't really _tell_ all the _intel_ unless you're _in_." His voice rose to something more conversational. "And there's the man who started it all!" he said. His thin mouth did not smile. "Lang. My main bro. My _'cool criminal'_." Grinning, he pointed a pair of finger guns at Lang. "Is this a coincidence?" he asked Loki slyly, "or is he here to keep you _in line_?"

"He's with me." Loki said.

Reluctantly, Lang sat down in on the stool he'd pulled out. He shook his head, "Hey Dale." he said. "I don't –"

"Sure you know me," Dale said. "Don't pretend that you don't." He grimaced familiarly at Loki, "all of us in the know, _know_. Am I right?" he winked. Again.

Lang rested heavily on his elbows, looking balefully at Loki, "I don't _do_ that anymore, Dale," he said.

"So you _do_ know me." Dale leaned back, folding his arms and flicked Loki a knowing glance. "Knew I could get you to talk." He pivoted on his stool. " _Baskin Robbins_ always finds out."

"I'm an Avenger now," Lang said, softly.

Loki's mouth quirked.

"Too good for us then, huh?" Dale persisted. "Goody-goody," he scoffed. "Then it will come as a blight on your _soul_ to know that _you_ were my moose. My inspiration."

Loki reached over to the employee side of the bar. From across the way the barista noticed and straightened from her place, slouched against the wall. Loki waved her off with a smile and took a napkin from the stack balanced on the counter.

Lang grimaced. "Your… _'moose'_?"

Loki reached behind Lang and plucked a pen from the cup. He scrawled ' _muse_ ' on the napkin, and slid it to Lang.

"… _oh…_ " Scott breathed.

Dale was too caught up to have noticed. "My dream," he said, eyes closed to better envision his words, "was to start a chain of _Baskin Robbins_ across the country, all run by ex-cons. Really a cover-up," he opened his eyes, holding one hand palm out, " _of course_. But you wouldn't have it, Lang," he shook his head dismally. "I had to fire you." Dale lifted his head, nodding wryly at Scott, "It broke my heart to see you go."

Loki turned on Lang, brows raised in mock sympathy with the grotesque to his right.

Lang looked from him, to Dale, and then back. "That's not…"

"But I've moved on to better and _darker_ things," Dale slid his fingers across the bar. " _Baskin Robbins_?" he scoffed. "What a joke! I've found my _true_ calling…"

Lang's eyes flicked blankly from Loki, to Dale. "Which is…?" he asked, reluctantly.

"Oh," Dale looked scathingly at Lang, "I won't be telling _you_. You're the one with the fuzz." He looked at Loki, "Why are we even hanging _out_ with him, anyway?"

Loki shrugged one shoulder. "Amusement, for the most part."

Dale's mouth spread slowly into a sickly smile. He peered around Loki to get a better look at his former-employee. He sniffed haughtily. "He _is_ a funny little man, isn't he?"

"I am not –" Lang protested. Loki quirked an eyebrow. Slouching, Lang grumbled, "…a funny little man."

Straightening, Loki glanced at his wrist, whereon there rode _no_ watch, and said, "Regrettably, we really _have_ got to go, as it happens," he looked at the slimy little man apologetically, "My client…"

"Say no more." Dale fished something out of his pocket. "Hhhhhhh _hheere_ ," he slid the card across the table to Loki. Tapped it twice. "When you get some _time._ " He looked at Loki significantly. "Give us a call. We'll chat it up."

Watching Lang's face with the tail of his eye, Loki solemnly pocketed the card. "My thanks, DeathRider."

Lang choked. " _What_?"

"Shh!" Dale hissed, looking furtively around the room and behind him, but not one of them was taking the least notice. "Not here," he said. His beady eyes glinted with a look of supreme pleasure. He mimed a phone with one hand to the side of his head. "Call me."

Standing, Lang gave a weak smile. "Let's go," he said "We don't want to keep _our_ – uh – _client_ – waiting."

"Hey," Dale turned on his bench, calling them back just as they had nearly reached the door. He rested both hands on his knees. Loki watched Lang wince. "Merry Christmas," Dale said.

Loki inclined his head.

"Oh, and one more thing," Dale said. He lowered his chin, slightly, and the voice with which he next spoke was not the nasal whine he'd had until that point. "The boy is Ignorance," he said. "The girl is Want. Beware them both, and all of their degree, but most of all beware this boy, for on his brow I see written that which is Doom, unless the writing be erased."

Then Dale pointed a finger gun at them, his face and his voice again – lamentably – his own. "You get what I'm _saying_?" he winked.

"Uhh…" Lang blinked, then settled with, "Bye."

"Wasn't talking to _you_ , sellout," Dale drawled. "But _bye_."

The air slipped heavily cold along the back of Loki's throat, after the heady warmth of the coffee shop.

"He gives me the creeps," Lang shuddered, whether with cold or distaste Loki did not think it of sufficient import to discern. Probably it was a mix of both. Lang shoved his hands deeply into his jacket pockets. "You're not gonna actually _call_ him, are you?"

"Who knows," Loki smiled. "It may be useful to be within the trust of such a one as _DeathRider_."

Lang chuckled. "He's an idiot," he said.

"He is indeed. If it's required of him, he may just take the bait."

"Nice." Lang eyed him appreciatively.

The technique was so elementary that Loki wanted to roll his eyes, but the compliment was still pleasant to hear, so he repressed the impulse. "Those last words," he said instead, turning his face up to the swollen underbelly of the grey clouds, "they were not his own."

"Yeah," Lang scuffed a shoe. "Probably some movie or something," he shrugged. "I don't know. He's weird."

* * *

Cassie, was a sweet, energetic child, with far more of her father in her, Loki decided, than her mother, and absolutely none at all of her painfully-stiff step-father.

Awkwardly, Lang tried to introduce them. Paxton first, then the mother. Loki came to the decision that he would suffer not a moment's misgiving if he found he must do away with the step-father. The mother, however, won a touch of respect for him by her unequivocal hostility. She would not so much as look at him when Lang attempted to introduce them. Loki was rather impressed that she allowed Lang the keeping of their child – even for the number of _hours_ that had been required of her – with how strongly she clearly felt Lang's ineptitude as a human being to be for fraternizing with him. But, even so, leave the child she eventually did.

Cassie, eyed him with a shy, though fearless, smile. She called him 'Mr. Loki', which, after the amusement her mother's distaste had given him, almost made him laugh.

She was small enough a child yet to ride atop her father's shoulders, and Lang slung her up so they could begin the walk from their agreed upon meeting place to Avenger's Tower.

Loki had little experience with children, or with parents, and never with a parent and a child that suited each other so entirely. As they walked, Loki hung back, behind them. It was a meager time they had, _hours_ , to spend with one you loved so completely. He had no desire to encroach upon what few moments had been granted Lang and his daughter.

Noting their easy talk and laughter from the unobtrusive pace at which he kept himself, Loki felt more a foreigner than he had in some time, at Avenger's Tower or anywhere else. It was a beautiful thing, their love, and not a thing he was part of. Turning his head with something like reverence, he watched the traffic as he walked, and the passing people. He gauged them for threat, but none came up with promising results. Musing, he recalled his mother and the first beginning steps she had taught him when his powers became apparent.

Glancing down, he watched his hand as he opened and closed it in a soft fist. _Seithr_ sparked electrically in his veins and ran along the nerves.

Ahead of him, he heard Cassie laugh. Preoccupied with his own thoughts, Loki had no interest in disturbing their little peace. As though from far off, he wondered at it. Wondered that Lang could have fallen so far and sprung back so easily. Wondered that, even after everything – after all the time lost and in spite of a mother and foster-father who opposed them – the child could still love him so completely.

They arrived at the Tower, undisturbed, and peeled off their outer layers. Most of the occupants had returned and they were gathered in the common rooms they'd taken to frequenting, laughing and talking one to another. Their words faded to a distant hum in the space. Removed as he was, Loki didn't think to leave them.

* * *

A hand shot out from the doorway and caught Scott's arm as he made after Natasha and Cassie. "Hey-!"

"How was he?" Tony asked. His face was every ounce serious.

Scott wondered briefly if Stark even realized that grabbing people like that as they walked by was considered _rude_ and might alarm them. He decided 'probably not' was the answer and settled with a scowl as he rubbed his arm. "Lagged behind us all the way home," he allowed. Something in his arm _pinched_ , and he grimaced. "What did you _do_?"

"What does that mean?" Stark pressed. "Details, Lang. I need details. Sulking? Was he distraught?"

" _Distraught_?" Scott asked, then shook his head. "No. Thoughtful…I guess?"

"You guess?"  
"I don't know," Scott snapped. " _You_ go look at him."

"Perfect." Stark clapped his shoulder. "Where is he?"  
"With the others."

Stark's head swiveled and he looked at Scott. "He didn't go back to his room?"

"Uhh…" Scott rubbed the back of his neck. "No?"

"Is that…" Stark put both his hands together under his chin, "Hm. Okay. Hey, _Bug's Life_ , you do something for me? Get Wilson. Tell him I'm in the kitchen."

"Sure…why?"

Tony rolled his eyes, "Because I'm making brownies and it's his turn to lick the spoon. I need to know the _instant_ that Reindeer Games leaves that room."

* * *

(earlier that morning -11:21 AM)

"So, to recap," Tony clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "Our absent American Hero is the Ghost of Christmas Past."

Chuckles rippled among the participants. One corner of Tony's mouth spasmed toward a smile.

"Wilson," he indicated the man, "will be facilitating my efforts."

"Which means…" Scott sat on the couch with his hands on his knees and flicked brown eyes between the two of them, "…what?"

"It means I do whatever Tony wants." Sam filled in.

Tony nodded deeply. "I could really use a backrub right now."

"I think that _might_ be above my pay grade," Sam chuckled.

"Later? I heard you say later. Too many people here. I get it. You," Tony rounded, indicating the hapless Scott, "are the Ghost of Christmas Present. Dress nice. You know. Brown Package. String."

"What do you…" Scott looked at Sam, then back at Tony, "what do you want me to do?"

"Here's the beautiful thing about my…scheme." Tony said. "I don't care _what_ you do. Take him with you when you go to get Cassie. Keep him from sulking in his room. Talk about," Tony snorted a laugh, "Talk about how great Christmas is, or Hank Pym – because for some reason you… _like?_ him…"

"Hank Pym is a great man."

"Uh-huh. And that means _you_ ," Tony rounded on the last person seated in the room. "You are my _piece resistance_. Now, talk to me. How fresh is your Nordic Lore? Because – based on my experience bandying 'Host Rights' I think dropping the _right_ names _might_ just get us directly to our destination, skip Go, do not collect two hundred dollars."

"I've been brushing up."

" _And_ just in time for Christmas." Tony slapped his palms together. "Okay team. Let's make my Christmas dreams come true and just get this out of the way before Pep gets home."

* * *

 **Sorry about Paxton and Maggie. At the time that I first drafted this, I had only seen _Ant Man_ once, and I really did not have a grasp of how wonderful they were going to be as characters. They are WONDERFUL characters, whom I have grossly misplayed in this chapter, and for that I apologize. Their part in this story was so little, that by the time I got to revisions, I wanted to focus more on Lang's friends, and...Dale ;)**

 **Also, _Ant Man_ does not take place in NYC. Artistic liberties have been taken for reasons that I assume obvious and I hope were worth it. **

**That line Dale said that neither Scott nor Loki knew is from _A Christmas Carol_. The Ghost of Christmas Present says that to Scrooge. It's a wonderful scene and possibly my favorite line in the book. I wanted to include it in some way in this chapter, and it just wasn't gonna happen naturally. **


	22. A Christmas Carol - The Future

**Stave IV: The Third of the Three Spirits**

 **The Last of the Spirits**

Strange had his forehead in the palm of one hand. "Temporal Manipulations can create breaches in time," he said, for the third time. The strain was only _just_ beginning to show in his voice.

"Just a little one," Tony insisted. He was sitting on the arm of the couch, his feet dangling like a kid's. He smirked at Wilson, who was standing at the far side of the couch. Doing little to stifle his grin, Wilson shook his head.

"Spacial paradoxes," Strange said. He lifted his head, levelling a flat look at Tony. "Time loops. What if the Dimenional Opening is Unstable?"

"I would _think_ that an expert such as yourself could find a way to dodge those…things." Tony said. He did it with a straight face.

Sitting between them on the couch, Lang looked from one of them, to the other.

"And we'd only need a _few_ minutes," Wilson added reasonably, " _assuming_ ," he glanced at Tony, "you could find the _right_ minutes."

"I always find the right minutes," the sorcerer snapped.

Seeing how they both smiled, Strange sighed.

"We've been after you all week," Tony pointed out, "to use it for _something_."

"The Eye," Strange breathed, "of Agamotto, is no plaything."

"Then why wear it like carnival beads?" Wilson demanded.

"I," Strange faltered, visibly deflating, "… _knew_ it was a bad idea, at the time."

Tony hopped down, taking a step toward the sorcerer and folding his hands in front of him. "I'm _begging_ you, Dr. Stephen Strange," he said. "It's your expert hands that will make or break this."

"Well," a smile started in Strange's eyes. "I _do_ have a score to settle with him."

Tony put both his hands together. " _Thank you_ ," he said. "Thank you. You will not regret this."

"I hope not," Strange said, without conviction.

"What's the worst that could happen?" Lang laughed.

Tony looked at him. "Don't _ever_ say that in my presence, again," he said. Then he turned back to the door. "All right, gentlemen, let us go hence form this place."

"Go…" Lang shook his head, "why?"

"Seriously Lang," Stark snapped his fingers, "Friday?" and the lights went out. "No offense – but – no wonder you got busted. When Loki, inevitably, accuses us of pulling the wool over his eyes, we'll have proof of our innocence, courtesy of paparazzi cheeps."

"You…mean tweets."

Tony rolled his eyes. He looked at Strange. "Come Doctor," he said. "The game's afoot."

* * *

(later that evening)

"Loki Laufey-Odinson."

Standing in front of his window, Loki whirled to face the intruder. He'd only just left the common floors, and he had been certain at the time that he was not followed.

Strange was silhouetted by the doorframe, but there was something odd in his bearing. A wrongness situated somewhere in the shoulders. He'd cast off the Cloak of Levitation in favor of something uncharacteristically hooded and black. The hood was pulled low over his face, hiding his eyes completely and shrouding the remainder of his face in shadow. He stood, with his hands hanging limply at his sides.

Loki relaxed his stance. He'd interacted with a handful of persons possessed throughout the course of his life, and he knew better than to charge without caution. Or manners. Few beings had the power to completely possess another.

This was…unexpected.

"Whom is it that I have the honor of addressing?" he asked.

"You know me not, Two-World Prince?" the Spirit asked. There was a lilt of amusement to the voice as its head cocked just a little to one side. "I am What-Will-Be, the Waning Moon, the Maiden of the Three, She of Veiled Face. It is I who offer Hope, and I who confound the plans of all. I am the most terrible," it purred, "and unpredictable, of my kind."

Loki dropped hastily to one knee, head bowed, "Lady," he said.

The Norn made no answer, but extended one arm. "Touch my hand," it directed.

Strange's hand lay, palm up, in the space between them.

Rising, Loki touched his fingertips to the Norn's palm. He knew better than to argue.

"Where we go we shall not be seen."

Producing the semblance of a third arm from somewhere, the Norn used the Sorcerer's ring to open a portal through Space.

"Come," it said.

Loki followed it through, to a small street in a quiet suburb that Loki was certain he had never seen before.

The Spirit released his hand and spoke no word. Loki watched as it opened the Eye the Sorcerer wore about his neck, and it took the Stone between its fingers, twisting Time forward. The shadows shifted and the feel of the air. Loki wavered, unexpectedly dizzy.

One Day.

The Norn glanced at him, and Loki thought it smiled. "Christmas Day," a poor approximation of Strange's voice assured him.

It turned its attention to the house before which they stood. Small. White. Well-kept and moderately decorated.

Something gave in the air around him and just as his mind leapt to the prognosis _falling_ , he realized they were within the house, standing to the side of some common living space. A tree glittered in the corner beside them, and a fire chattered softly to itself in the fireplace behind. Music was playing, and the entire place crackled with anticipation.

The Spirit looked him over.

A touch lightheaded, Loki straightened his shoulders and refused to attempt eye contact. He would not appear cowed before this Spirit any more than deference required. Keeping his mouth shut, Loki watched for what was certain to be his next lesson.

Noxious Christmas music was blaring from a CD player on the mantle beside them, but no person was to be seen. The air was weighted with the smells of pine and spice and smoke from the fireplace, all mingled with the smells of cooking that emanated from a room to the right of where they stood. There were several couches in the room, positioned for a view of the fireplace and the tree, and against the far wall, there stood a card table with a red, plastic table cloth thrown over it.

"Darcy," a girl's voice cut through the noise.

Loki's head turned sharply. He knew her.

"Would you turn that _down_?" the voice demanded as she came through the doorway. She set her burden on the card table. Small as he'd remembered her, she looked yet smaller in the oversized plaid shirt she wore. Asgardian garb had added something of height. Her face was pretty, framed by the loose strands of fawn-colored hair that had fallen free from the knot at the back of her neck. But she was strained and anxious. No doubt entertaining, and feeling not-quite up to the task.

Loki had not seen her in years.

The music soared all at once, and Jane put both hands over her ears, " _Darcy_."

The offending personage, careless as she'd ever been – if his scant memory of her served him – sauntered in through the opposite doorway.

Loki had the oddest feeling of déjà vu, gathering in a kind of pressure on the back of his neck. He wanted uncomfortably to fidget.

"Okay, okay _fine_ ," Darcy sulked. She went straight to the mantle, _inches_ from where Loki stood. Her perfume smelled of oranges and clove.

Loki did not move. The Spirit beside him was a solid, unyielding presence.

Darcy noticed neither of them. She turned the offending music down, if slightly, and turned back to her companion. "You could have just done that yourself, you know," she said. "It's not like it's Rocket Science."

Jane was leaning backwards with her hips against the table, her eyes closed and hands clasped under her chin. "Darcy," she said, "do you think _maybe_ I have enough on my plate right now?"

"So your boyfriend's here for Christmas," Darcy shrugged. " _I_ didn't tell you to throw a party. You _know_ Thor doesn't care about any of this, right? He's just happy to be here?"

Jane let out a long breath through her nose. "Just go and mix the punch, okay?"

"Ooo, mixed drinks. Now it's really a party,"

Opening her eyes, Jane offered a strained smile. "Thank you."

A door that Loki could not see, opened, and Jane's eyes flashed. "You're back!"

Loki recognized that laugh. Something in his chest twinged. He ignored it.

Watching them, unseen like this, it sparked dormant memory he'd thought dead. His view almost seemed to fade at the edges, as if distorted by Hlidskalf. But of course that was ridiculous. He laid the disturbance forcibly aside, focusing on the voice.

"We were gone a deal longer than I'd expected," Thor was saying. He came through the door both women had used, striding across the room to meet her, setting some manner of baggage onto the floor in the doorway. He was dressed like she was, in jeans and a plaid shirt. His hair was tied back behind him.

Thor took Jane's chin between a thumb and forefinger, tipped his face back, and kissed her.

Loki turned away.

"You've never met this girl, not truly," the Spirit said.

"No," Loki murmured, "I haven't." Svartalfheim hardly counted, and, later, he'd had no stomach for it.

"Why not?"

Loki raised his chin. He watched the two of them with no expression on his face. "There was never a need."

The Spirit's lips twitched minutely. Loki could hear it in the voice. "None for _you_."

Darcy had sauntered back into the room, a camera in her hands. Humming to herself, she turned and backed almost against Loki. Grimacing, he drew back. The tree jabbed him in the spine and the chimes on it rang together.

"Stupid cat," Darcy muttered, glancing toward his feet.

Loki scowled, " _Hey_ ,"

Lifting the camera, she snapped a picture of Thor and Jane. The flash captured their attention.

"Under the mistletoe and _everything_!" Darcy grinned. Examining the picture more closely, she pushed her glasses up her nose. "I'm not sure if that's more cute or disgusting."

"Oh my _God_ , Darcy," Jane looked mortified.

"What!" Darcy glanced up, fixing her glasses again. "It's not like this is the _first_ time I've caught you kissing or anything…"

"Darcy, just…" Jane brushed loose hair behind her ear, "just go and finish the punch."

Darcy flicked something on the camera, "I finished that – like – twenty minutes ago."

Jane turned, exasperated. "How could you have done that? I _just_ told you to."

"Yeah," Darcy explained through the gum in her mouth, "like – _twenty minutes ago_."

Something clattered from the direction of the kitchen. "Hey, uh, Darcy,"

It was Selvig. The Doctor. Something in Loki's fingertips prickled. The pressure of them against his palms was the only concession Loki was willing to make.

"could you…help me with…something?"

"Sure," Darcy chirped. She pocketed the camera with a pert, "Duty calls."

Watching her go, Thor smiled. Jane only looked drained. Left alone with her, Thor cupped Jane's narrow shoulders in his hands. She was already a small woman, but Thor dwarfed her completely. "Everything looks lovely, Jane," he promised.

Loki felt more than ever that he was intruding. His skin crawled and he turned his head away.

The Spirit was unyielding. "Are you afraid?" it asked.

Jaw set, Loki turned his head back.

Jane's chin tipped back, exposing the white of her neck. "It's not perfect," she admitted.

Thor brushed a strand of hair back from her face. "Yes it is."

He kissed her.

Loki closed his eyes.

The Norn's voice was directly in his ear. " _Listen_."

"Thor," Jane said, softly, "what is it?"

"It's nothing," Thor answered.

Opening his eyes, Loki saw Jane reach up to touch Thor's face. "That's a lie," she smiled.

Holding her hand against his cheek, Thor smiled at her.

"It's your brother," Jane said, "isn't it?"

Thor looked at her a long moment. "He refused," he said.

"I know," she said. Then, "It's not your fault,"

Gently, Thor shook his head. "It's mine as much as that of anyone else, Jane."

As he drew away, she reached for his hand.

Thor turned to face her.

"Maybe…" she said. "Maybe you have to stop trying. Maybe you just have to let _him_ decide to come back to you."

Thor looked at her, without moving. Loki couldn't see his face.

He didn't breathe.

"And if he will not?" Thor asked.

"You'd…" Jane shrugged, struggling, "you'd still have us," she drew up a smile.

Thor smiled, and he went back to her. But he found something in her promise lacking – it was written in the slant of his shoulders. Loki knew that look better than anyone. He'd seen it countless times. Thor would square his shoulders and smile, saying something optimistic and cocky. Their friends would cheer and Loki would roll his eyes.

He didn't understand why it mattered so much to him all of a sudden. Two minutes before, he would scarcely have noticed what state Thor's _shoulders_ were in. Or cared, for that matter.

The moment was shattered by the doorbell. Loki raised his chin.

Thor was frowning at Jane, and she floundered. "They're not –" she glanced for a watch or a clock, "no one's supposed to be here for another _hour_." Jane tucked her hair back behind her ears with both hands, then smoothed them down her shirt, eyes darting to every available surface, the very _picture_ of a panicked hostess.

Darcy was standing behind them in the doorway. She shouldered past them to set a bowl on the table. "Half-hour, _maybe_."

Loki's mouth twitched up at one corner. Thor was nearly laughing.

"Thor, quick," Jane snatched his wrist, dragging Thor toward the kitchen.

The doorbell rang again.

Jane whirled on her, "Darcy, would you _get that_?"

"Sure thing," Darcy drawled.

She went to the door, and she took her time in opening it. "Just a _minute_ ," she said.

The wood of the door barred Loki's line of vision, though he could hear Jane's panicked voice behind him, and Thor's answering her from the kitchen.

Darcy did not invite the stranger in. She stood in the doorway, holding the knob and she looked directly at Loki, undeniable amusement on her face. "Uh, Thor?" she called, looking past him. "Wanna come here for a second? I think it's for you."

Peering through the kitchen doorway, wiping his hands on a dishcloth, Thor frowned, "Me?"

Darcy gestured toward the stranger. "Come and see for yourself."

Thor crossed the room, but before he could reach the door, Loki felt a hand close like a vice on his shoulder, dragging him back into a pool of chaos that dropped him with a sucking _pop_ on his knees in the middle of his rooms in Stark Tower.

He had to assume, digging his fingers against the wooden boards in an effort to _still them_ , that they'd gone back in Time as well as Space, because it had been centuries since so simple a manipulation as _transportation_ had done this to him.

The world spun furiously and, dragging breath between his teeth, Loki shut his eyes. Pressure popped behind them and he thought he might be sick. He drew a breath.

"Spirit?" he managed.

"You'd seen enough." Strange's voice assured him passionlessly.

Loki kept his thoughts on that to himself. He shut his teeth together, waiting for the ache behind his eyes to crest and ebb away.

"Oh," the Spirit said. "One thing more."

Two fingers hooked under Loki's chin and flicked it up.

It was all Loki could do not to snap at the Norn.

For the first time he saw Strange's eyes under the hood.

The Norn looked into him.

"Do you know more now?" it asked, "Or not?"

Two fingers rapped the center of his forehead.

And the world winked out.

* * *

(6:04 PM)

Stark set his drink down with a little _clink_ on the counter. "It _worked_?"

"Either that," Stephen folded his arms, "or he's onto us and thinks it's more entertaining to play along."

"No…?" Stark held up his hands and gestured lamely with his fingers.

Stephen didn't alter his expression. "Not yet," he said, slightly stressing the last word.

"No news is good news." Tony shrugged. "So, god-complex with security issues plays along to make a fool of himself and learn a few, well-deserved life-lessons on the way?" he lifted his glass.

Stephen lowered his chin in a nod. "I concur."

He remembered the look of consternation on Darcy Lewis' face as she answered the front door, and he thought it fortunate how quickly he'd responded. Likely the identity of that visitor would have complicated the process of their patient. Probably to the point that anything they might have accomplished would have been undone in that instant.

Yes, he smiled to himself. Fortuitous indeed.

As it was, the diagnosis was promising. But Stephen wasn't going to say something so rash to Stark. Not when the billionaire was already jumping to those conclusions himself. Too many variables lay yet between them and that moment he had foreseen.

"Huh," Stark downed the last of his drink. "It worked." Setting the glass on the counter, he side-eyed Stephen and held out his hand. "Give me something."

Stephen could only argue the facts of the mechanism so many times. Stark's optimism would override him every time. Giving in, Stephen clapped Stark's hand with his own.

"Gingerbread Boy's in the oven," Stark told him. "Now we just have to wait," settling back against the counter, Stark folded his arms self-contentedly, "and see what comes out."


	23. A Christmas Carol - The End - Almost

**Forgot to say last time: Strange's line at the end with Loki ('Do you know more now, or not?') is a norse-mythos thing. Prophetesses say that at the end of most of their professies.**

 **That being out of the way...**

* * *

 **Stave V: The End of It**

… **Almost**

* * *

Loki woke up with a start.

The room was entirely dark, the lights from the city without the Tower's windows cast ghostly light into the room, tracing gentle lines against the edges of the objects within.

Giving a soft groan, Loki pushed himself up. His head throbbed. He pressed one hand against it. The cold of his palm was soothing, if only for a moment. Sitting on the hardwood floor, he glanced at the clock. It was only just past six thirty in the evening.

He had to reach back through the swirling fog of the past hours to remember where he had been and why his head ached. He didn't recall falling asleep.

The last moment he could grasp with any clarity, it had been – what he assumed was still – tomorrow morning.

Such powers should not be manipulated lightly. He rested his head in both hands, savoring the temporary reprieve they provided, contemplating the repercussions such a foray into the domain of the Future. Luckily for him, the initiative had not been his. When one of the _Fates_ appeared in a material form, one was usually expected to obey her summons. She couldn't have left him in the future time without creating some sort of snag in the past where he ought to have been. The irregularity would be expected to cause little to no distress in the first days, but as time wore on its repercussions could be expected to worsen exponentially. Even the Fates themselves must bow to the laws of reality.

It must still be the same day, then. She had to have brought him back.

As Loki came to this conclusion, a second one hit him.

It was oddly quiet in the Tower, considering the time of day.

'Little Asgard' – as Stark so familiarly insisted upon calling it – was removed from the rest of the Tower by several floors, but his hearing was exceptional, even by Asgardian standards – a blessing as often as it was a curse – and he was certain that there was typically more uproar throughout the Tower at this time of day.

Uncertainty toward the state of the Tower nettled him almost as much as the unexpected events of the day. He wanted diversion, and he knew he was unlikely to find that in his rooms.

Lifting his head unwillingly out of what small comfort his hands could provide, Loki got gracelessly to his feet and went to the door. He thanked his stars that Thor had been absent for this particular adventure. The last thing he needed was to try and explain his current situation to the laughing buffoon. Turning the nob, Loki found it was locked. His brow knit in quick perplexity that he quickly shrugged aside. Ignorance as to who had mysteriously locked his door was to be expected when one had no memory of being deposited in one's own home.

Memories long forgotten of similar awakenings centuries before when he'd first achieved an age to drink alongside Thor and his friends flitted to the forefront of his mind. He'd given those pastimes up quickly on the stark evidence that they did not suit him the way they suited the others. Fumbling his hand against the wall to find his way against the stabbing light outside of his rooms, Loki protested that at least those episodes had been preceded by some fun, rather than the overbearing attentions of some primal Deity.

The thought that a _Norn_ had assumed mortal aspect only to speak to him, unbelievable as it was, left a cold, unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach. It would lie easier with him, he reasoned, should he have some idea _why_ his affairs were of such import. He caught his foot against an end table and the throbbing behind his eyes jogged him out of his train of thought.

Conceding that the common floors were too cluttered to allow for his stumbling about blind and unwilling to be found by any of the Avengers in any more compromising a state than necessary, Loki sought out the darkened doorway of a room apart from the others.

A mechanical sound – so common in Stark's building – buzzed, and a large screen in the wall flickered to life. Its light revealed Ms. Potts. She was barefooted, coiled on the couch opposite.

Whatever it was the Norn had done, its aftereffects were dampening his reflexes. Wryly he thought that he ought to have noticed her prior to the television's activation.

"Oh, Loki," she said. "You startled me."

As she settled herself more comfortably onto the couch rather than stiffening or moving farther from the doorway, Loki assumed the experience was not unpleasant. Not for the first time, he wondered what it was that Stark's woman saw in him that put her at ease.

Changing screens on the muted machine – presumably with the device in her hand – she asked, "Is your head any better?"

He had no recollection of either _having_ nor admitting to her the fact that he had a headache. Obviously, through some machination of Fate, she knew. Shruggingly, he set it aside. Assured by one final glance that she was the only one in the room he yielded further ground, pressing one hand against the side of his skull. "Not really," he admitted.

Glancing at him, Potts made an instinctual, sympathetic noise in the back of her throat that reminded Loki sharply of his mother. Not wanting to dwell in any way on that, Loki asked, "Where are the others?"

"There's Advil above the sink," she offered, "if that will – I mean," she floundered, "if that works for you. I don't know what you _can_ take. Can you…? You're welcome to the bottle, if you think it will help."

Loki followed her indication into the little kitchenette and quickly found the little bottle in the cupboard. It opened with a _pop_ and spilled tiny pills into his hand. The bottle advised one-two, taken at intervals of four hours. Loki took seven.

Potts' voice floated after him. "Steve convinced most of them to go to Church with him."

Setting the glass he'd found back in the sink, Loki said, "The Captain didn't strike me as particularly religious."

"Well," her voice sounded amused.

Loki didn't leave his place in front of the little sink.

"It's Christmas Eve. Almost everybody's religious tonight."

Loki let a slight smirk lift one side of his mouth. "But not you?" Giving up his post, Loki stopped the bottle, replaced it and went to lean one shoulder against the doorframe.

Potts cocked her head to eye him significantly. Laughter lurked on the lines of her lips. "It's been a long day," she said.

Loki coughed a laugh, wondering how her day would pale beside his.

"I thought some rest" she gestured to the television and the wine glass on the table before her, "and relaxation were called for. You're welcome to join me if you'd like."

Weighing her words, Loki found her genuine. He didn't particularly want to go back to his rooms at present, and since Pepper was the only one home, he smiled graciously as he could. "I'd be honored."

"Dosteovesky, you've read," she took a drink from her glass and set it back in its place. Loki lowered himself into the armchair nearest the exit. "But have you gotten to Dicken's yet?"

"I confess I have not," he allowed.

"Well, this is based on one of his most famous works," she told him, gesturing to the blackened city filling out the screen, "It's one of my favorites."

* * *

It took some ten minutes for Loki to feel any of Advil's alleviating effects. It took slightly less than twice that for him to become absolutely certain that he had been deceived.

 _How_ , exactly, that had come to take place, he was unsure. But he was certain that it had happened.

Potts noticed nothing. She remained coiled in her place, a slight smile lifting the corners of her mouth as she lived again the familiar lines of this story she professed to love.

Relaxing back into his chair, Loki determined to learn more of this farce in which he'd been an unknowing participant. His stumbling upon the roots of their ploy was obviously nothing any of the conspirators had planned on. He could use that knowledge to his advantage. His heart beat slow and heavy, the blood hot in his veins, and his hand worked open and closed against the arm of the chair. As he watched the oversized screen, Loki saw none of it. He dragged a long breath and midway through releasing it he determined that he would not be subjected to this a moment longer. Without any word to Potts, he got to his feet and he left the room.

He was uncertain what he would do should he find himself faced with any one of the Avengers in his current state of mind. Considering the tenuous place he held with them, lashing out carelessly would be unwise and without further time to ferret out which were conspirators, his hands were bound. He locked himself in the nearest washroom.

Gripping the sides of the sink with both hands, Loki tried to focus on the grounding sensation of the cold porcelain. His breath was ragged. He let his head hang low, gathering the fragmented bits of evidence he had. Unreasoning anger was availing him nothing. His head throbbed, aggravated by the sudden activity. Strange must have used some spell, some _drug_ , on him.

Deftly Loki twisted the cold water tap and cupped it in his hands. He smeared it off his face. His eyes were too bright as they stared at him out of the looking glass, and his hands shook. He was no use to anyone – least of all himself – in a state like this.

Running his hands back through his hair, Loki blew out a deep breath.

He'd kill Strange. The mountebank had days left him. One way, or another, Loki would find a way to further that man's death. It would be painful, and it would be creative.

But until such time as such a plan would fall together, Loki would need to compose himself. He'd avail himself nothing by tipping his hand.

His pulse was steadying in his veins, and the throbbing between his eyes was quieting to a manageable ache.

Quietly, Loki went back to his place before the television. In the least, he could watch how the film resolved and see what outcome the conspirators had planned for him.

Potts didn't glance over at his arrival, and Loki thought perhaps the entire incident had fled her notice when her soft voice shattered his hopes. "Are you alright?" she asked.

Touching fingertips to the top of one cheekbone – as much of a deflection as it was a shield – he cleared his throat. It was lazy, buying time like that, but he wasn't in the mood for any more games than he was already unwillingly playing. "Better now, thank you."

Something about it must have sounded disingenuine, because she turned and looked him over. She gave an unconvinced little 'hm', got up, and vanished into the kitchenette.

Stolidly, Loki refused to look after her or ask what she went to do. He had requested no aid, and it was none of his business what course of action the lady of the house chose to take.

Returning moments later, she fulfilled his dubious expectations by putting a glass partway filled with orange juice on the end table that stood beside him. "Here," she said, simply.

"What's this for?"

She sat back in her old place, drawing her feet demurely to one side. She didn't look his way as she reached for her wine glass. "I get migraines sometimes," she said, lowering the glass, "I find it helps to have something to keep my blood sugar up without being any more nauseated."

He glanced at the glass. The images from the screen flashed colors that smeared on the reflective surface.

"You were looking a little grey," she said easily. "I thought you could use it."

"Ah," so, she thought nausea the reason for his distraction. It was a better cover than he'd expected. Less than his pride would have liked, but helpful all the same. "I…thank you."

Potts flashed a quick smile in answer, but did not speak again for some time.

Watching the story of this 'Ebenezer Scrooge', Loki thought that, in all likelihood, the Captain had had little to nothing to do with his humiliation. Captain Steven Rogers was a paragon of truth and justice. Participating in such base strategies would have gone against his moral compass. And apart from the scruples sure to plague his pure heart, Rogers was sure to be disinclined to sully his good character. He may have been aware that some conspiracy was being acted upon – but what was more likely was that he had been as unknowing as Loki himself. In all likelihood, the master conspirator had drawn him aside and made known to Rogers his part in the plan only, bought his loyalty with promises of good outcome and team spirit and sent him on his way only partially culpable.

Lang also Loki could not bring himself to believe guilty of masterminding the event. Lang would be lucky to contrive a plan worthy of freeing himself from a paper bag. The number of players inherent to the nature of the game, as well as the irony played upon throughout would have been utterly beyond his endearing scope of ability. While being compliant with his own place in the proceedings, Loki was certain Lang's knowledge consisted of little else.

Strange, though. Strange was – as he so laughably named himself – a 'Master of the Mystic Arts'. The Time Stone resided in his unworthy protection. He was absurdly conceited in his knowledge of unimportant facts and trivia, and cocky to the point that he would gamble the entire game on the fact that Loki did not know the story they meant him to ape. Strange would have been capable of the theatrics necessary to win his attention.

Coulson, however, gave Loki pause. While Strange could arguably have crafted the form of the man and brought him forth for his own ends, he was hardly privy to the particulars of the story that had ended in the Avenger's genesis and the agent's untimely demise. Co-conspirator, Strange might have been. Sole hand at the wheel, he was not. He'd sought help.

Thor was gone, and while it was true that Loki hadn't heard him come in, he did know that Thor did not waste time in small talk. He would have accomplished his mission first. And he never would have thought to lay out a game where a blow could suffice. No, Thor's involvement ended with his disappointed leave taking, even as Friedrick's had ended as he left his uncle's counting house.

He would have liked to believe that Romanoff's inclusion was as ludicrous. Based on her more direct approach these days past, he was inclined to believe that it was.

Banner was out of the question. The mention of such a game would have been enough to release his less friendly counterpart.

Barton was distracted with his children, and – like Thor – favored a more direct strategy. He was, also, decidedly unlikely to consider Thor's happiness a boon great enough to grant its pursuit such theatrics.

The only one with half the flair for the dramatic, the knowledge, the disinclination towards self-preservation, was Stark.

"Loki?"

Drawn suddenly out of his thoughts, Loki glanced at Pepper.

She was watching him, concern wrinkling her brow, "Are you alright?"

That did seem to be her question of the day.

He drew his lips into a thin imitation of a smile. "I remembered something. It is no matter. I apologize."

Half-convinced, she asked, "Is the Advil helping?"

Following her eyes back to the screen, he saw the face of Scrooge's flabbergasted nephew, as his erstwhile distant uncle embraced him. "Well enough."

Distractedly, Loki thought of Thor. Of his words in the vision Strange had enacted. Loki had seen the stone. He had seen it opened. What Loki had seen in that house was – would be – true. Thor's hurt and regret was unfeigned.

And Loki was the one who might lift it. With such a little action. All that was required was the setting aside of his own pride.

Should he have remained oblivious to their plot, he might have done it. As it was…

The sound of the door on the floor below them and a riot of laughing, happy voices cut through his musings.

Loki used the ensuing chaos to slip out into the dark, unseen.


	24. It Came Upon a Midnight Clear

The air was cold. It shivered down the back of the coat he wore to settle peaceably along the curve of his spine. The chill did what it could to soothe him.

Loki took a deep breath, holding it in his lungs until they ached, then put his head back and watched the droplets of his breath cloud against the night sky. The cold made the filth on the air less apparent. He could almost imagine that it was pure. He could almost envision stars in the murky smear of what sky was visible between the monstrous buildings of New York City.

The silence was broken only by the sound of his own feet. No one stirred on the streets where he walked. The night was eerily quiet, with the peace before a storm.

Loki thought of the stories he'd heard of this celebration. Of Christmas Eve.

The cold caressed the back of his throat and he brought it within himself, accepting the persistent distraction it provided. He drove his hands deeper inside his pockets.

He walked until the snarl in his mind was forgotten and his feet ached. It might have been hours that he walked, he had no way to be sure. Somewhere he found a rhythm, and he followed it, forgetting all else but the rush of the cold, the brush of snow on his cheeks as it fell, the icy flakes that looked like lace as they settled on his eyelashes. He might have kept walking, save that his feet had taken him back, and Stark's tower loomed in front of him.

Uncertain, Loki hung back.

He drew a long breath, then plunged into the light, and sound, and heat of the tower.

When he let himself in – calm, if uncertain – still – what his course of action ought next to be – he found them all gathered in that room where they'd all gathered that first night, when it had only been the first of them, those he had battled those years ago, the original seven – if indeed he was to be counted among their number. It appeared that all of them were present. All save Thor.

Rogers was dressed rather unconvincingly as 'Santa Clause'. Barton's vexing wisp pf a daughter was sitting on his lap, counting off on her fingers all her dearest wishes. Laura stood nearby, watching and laughing. She had her arm about her husband's waist, and he had his about her shoulders. Potts was talking with her, and Stark stood by them. Col. Rhodes was handing him a drink.

Wanda sat on a couch nearby them, with the youngest Barton child nestled in her lap and the older boy alongside them. Strange was trying to speak with her. Trying, because Wanda wasn't watching him. A soft smile graced her mouth, and she was more relaxed than Loki thought he had ever seen her. The Vision stood nearby her seat, but silent, a protective spirit.

Lang and Wilson lounged against the room-side of the bar, while Romanoff and Banner were on the far side, Banner sitting on a bar stool with his hands hidden from sight, Romanoff leaning on her elbows, her red hair cast over one shoulder. Loki glanced about for Lang's daughter before realizing that it was well past the time her mother had designated for her return. Lang's good will held up to Loki's cursory glance and Loki had to conclude that the man really was as contented as he seemed.

The entire room was abuzz with laughter and warmth. Loki thought to draw back. What was he but the fly in the ointment? Russian words caught his attention through the hum, and he met Romanoff's eyes with a puzzled frown. "Where have _you_ been?" she demanded, again, in Russian.

To the best of Loki's – rather extensive – knowledge of the team, she was the only member thereof who spoke the language with any fluency. A game then, at the expense of the rest of the team. In the hours immediately following their excursion, he had understood it. But here, days later, and in the company of her shield brothers, it was an unexpected boon.

At the foreign words that none of them could understand, the others of her grouping – Banner, Wilson, Lang – all turned to see him. No smile faltered.

His smile was unconscious. He told her in their language that he'd gone to visit her mother. Natasha rolled her eyes. She beckoned him to join them.

He did, and he told himself it was to see Stark's face.

The genius billionaire didn't notice him for several moments, during which Loki had taken the seat Natasha shoved at him as well as the drink Wilson demanded he try and Natasha mixed for him. Stark caught a look at him out of the corner of his eye and raised a hand in a careless acknowledgement before his memory caught up to the man and he jerked, flicking a quick, panicked glance in Loki's direction.

Loki had hoped that Pepper might have shared with him their activities during his absence. It seemed that she had. Tony's response was oddly satisfying.

Meanwhile, Strange could not have remained as totally in-ignorance of his presence as he appeared. As totally idiocy was a tempting but unavailable option, Loki had to admit that the smug bastard had strength of mind. Should the fraud live to see the new year, Loki filed away the knowledge for future use.

He thought – rather magnanimously – that he might just gift the inflated man with a few days more – if only to see where that magnificent ability to hide his thoughts might take him. There would be a reckoning, but perhaps not for some time…

As he watched, Rogers asked for the baby, and Wanda gave him up. With Nathaniel on one knee, and Lila – resplendent in Roger's hat and costume beard – on the other, Rogers opened a book.

With a few hisses and some indignant snapping of fingers from their host, the whole room went slowly quiet. Rogers cleared his throat. And then he began to read.

" _'Twas the night before Christmas_ ," he read, " _and all through the house_ …"

Wilson assured Loki that it was a classic poem, read by households across Earth on Christmas Eve. Cooper moved to sit cross-legged on the floor with his chin between his fists, and Stark's arm was around Pepper's shoulders. Barton and his wife had taken a seat on the couch, watching their children fondly. Barton had one arm across the back of the couch behind his wife's neck.

Of Barton, Loki was more ready to be deferential than the others. Not only had Loki's wrong to him been most personal, the man had made the least use of it, and Romanoff had been his shield-companion longer and nearer than any of the others. Loki had no intention of coming between them. Banner seemed already to have accepted that. Of Barton, however, Loki was as uncertain as he remained of Banner's less-gentle half.

So, when the archer caught Loki's eye, by chance, Loki did not dismiss him out of hand. The archer smirked, then turned the hand behind his wife to a gesture Loki was not unfamiliar with. It was crude, and often used as insult on Earth, but occasionally, between friends the gesture _could_ be something more of a mockery… Barton's smile was true. It was a ritual Loki had seen performed between Wilson and Barton countless times. Understanding clicking softly into place, Loki played his role and with the slightest twitch of his lips, he returned the motion.

Barton's smile quirked a touch wider before he returned his attention to his children.

Loki held the glass Natasha had given him in both his hands, and he rested on his elbows on the bar beside her. She had her head on Banner's shoulder and none of them were looking at him. All eyes were on the Captain, as he read to the children.

Loki wasn't listening, but he felt the rhythm of the story the same way he'd felt the rhythm of his steps, and the predictability of the rhymes was soothing like the chill of the night.

Watching them all, Loki was uncertain he'd ever seen so peculiar a thing as this. So motley a band, bound together with the thinnest bonds – possibly the strongest.

For whatever inexplicable reason, he'd been invited to join them. Even after all he'd done to them.

He didn't know that he'd ever truly understand that. And the bottom of the glass Natasha had thrust into his hands was unlikely to yield up any answers, no matter how thoroughly he studied it.

Rogers had a good voice for reading.

" _And I heard him exclaim as he rode out of sight_ …" the Captain looked over his assembled audience, and his eyes shone.

Their voices rose as one, "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"

 _"Why not allow them the chance?"_ Thor had asked him during their last argument.

Loki was beginning to ask himself why not.


	25. We Wish You a Merry Christmas

Clint was aware of a body landing on top of him. Adrenaline spiked through his veins, bringing him abruptly out of the soft darkness of dreams into the violence of the waking world.

The small, squirming, wriggling, panting body crashed into him again, struggling to its feet in the dark. Lila giggled, "Daddy, it's Christmas!" she started to jump. "It's Christmas! It's Christmas!"

In the dark beside him, Laura made a sound that was one part groan, one part laugh.

The adrenaline let-down was gonna kill him one of these mornings – Clint just knew it.

Pulling his hands free of the blankets, Clint grabbed the little monster about the waist, pinning her arms as best he could in the dark without accessing any of his training and snuggled her back against the mattress.

"Daddy," she giggled, struggling against him. "It's Christmas! It's Christmas!"

"Nnn it's not," he drawled, settling the weight of his arm more comfortably against Lila's ribs. "Chris-mas was yes'erday."

" _No_ ," Lila grunted, making a concentrated effort to tug her arm free.

It was cute, the way she struggled.

" _it's_ ," she kicked and Clint moved one leg to pin hers down, " _today!_ "

"Nah," Clint snuggled his nose deeper into the pillow behind her warm little head. "I'm pretty sure that was yesterday." Through her hair, he could see the glowing numbers. 5:27. He stifled a yawn. "You slept through Christmas." She couldn't have given them a _little_ longer. Was 6:00 really too much to ask?

"Clint…" Laura laughed.

"Look," Clint shifted his arms so he could point at the clock. Lila tried to take the opportunity to get the better of him, but he was expecting that. She squeaked in frustration. "It's not even _today_ yet."

" _Cooper_ ," Lila squeaked, "says day starts at –" she tugged one arm almost free, " _midnight._ "

There was a shuffling sound by the doorway, and, squinting past Lila's squirming, Clint saw his son had joined them, rubbing his eyes. "Does he?" Clint muttered. "Well, that's very _helpful_ of him, to be teaching you things." He flicked his eyes over at Cooper, and, in the dark, he saw the boy smile. "Not all brothers," Clint shifted, tugging Lila higher up on bed so she couldn't wriggle under his arm, " _teach_ their sisters _things._ "

Deep in the recesses of their suite, Nathaniel raised a plaintive cry.

Chuckling to herself, Laura put her feet out of the bed and went to get him.

Lila chose that moment to heave a sudden, violent twist and fling her arm free. She hit the light switch.

Throwing his arm across his eyes, Clint gave an exaggerated hiss.

Lila giggled, squirming free. "It's Christmas! It's Christmas!"

Clint groaned, "Now what'd you have to go and do _that_ for?"  
"Get up!" she cheered, "Get upgetupget _up_!"

"Nobody _else_ is up yet," he complained.

Laura was laughing at them in her soft way, sitting on the chair by the door with her hair pulled back in a haphazard ponytail and her bathrobe on. She wouldn't have bothered for a nighttime feeding. Nathaniel showed no signs of sleeping ever again in his life. He held his bottle with two chubby hands and stared worshipfully up at his mother. Lila was jumping on the bed, and though Cooper was sitting in the floor, one look at his face told Clint that he was almost excited enough to explode.

The digital clock display flicked from 5:29 to make it officially 5:30 in the morning.

Clint sighed.

"Alright," he said. "Alright, alright. I'm up."

* * *

When Clint came back from the bathroom, he discovered that his suite had been infiltrated.

Stark was sitting on _his_ bed, barefooted, in his pajama pants and a band t-shirt, cheering Lila on. Cooper was on the bed next to him, going on about something at about a mile a minute.

Clint looked to his wife for answers.

She smiled a kind of non-verbal apology, bouncing Nathaniel on one knee.

"Morning Barton," Tony said.

"Sure is," Clint grumbled.

Lila was jumping on the bed clutching a pillow. In her excitement, she walloped Stark across the side of the head with it and he lost his balance, face planting on the mattress. The moment _almost_ made up for the billionaire's intrusion.

Almost.

* * *

Sunlight shone through the windows. The room hummed with activity and warmth.

"You sure you know what you're doing with that?" Tony asked, peering over Vision's shoulder.

Slowly, Vision lowered his wrist, tapping the egg against the side of the bowl to break the shell. "I read the directions very exactly," he said.

"Yeah, well," Tony shifted his hold on the plates he was carrying, "that's _hot_ – You just be careful with that and make sure you _read_ _labels,_ "

The shell fractured and the line spread, splitting across the smooth surface, spilling the wet contents into the bowl. Eggs were such _odd_ things. Vision wondered that anyone could resist the curiosity the tangible world presented.

"and if you need something that isn't labeled, _find someone_ else to get it," Mr. Stark was continuing, "Not me, obviously,"

Vision set aside the shell, plucking up another egg. He smiled at Tony's prattling.

"but find _someone_."

Half-glancing after Tony, Vision asked carefully, "Is this about the hot-chocolate incident?"

"N – well, yes. Actually yes. And on that note, do _not_ ask Barton. I don't know _why_ he wants to kill us all, but cayenne/whipped cream was not something I wanted to cross off my bucket list yet. I was not – spiritually prepared."

Vision smiled. "Perhaps on scrambled eggs?"

"Mm," Tony paused in the doorway. "Whipped cream, no. Cayenne…maybe. Ask Pepper."

* * *

Wanda touched at her lashes one last time. Her eyes blinked back at her in the mirror. Giving a little nod of approval, she set her mascara aside. She didn't love Christmas. Not since her parents. After that, Pietro had tried to make it a special day, but he was gone. Christmas was just another day, for her. She'd spent _some_ time with Clint's kids. They'd squealed over presents and their eyes had shone. But it wasn't the same. She emanated darkness. She didn't want to bring that into their day. Let them have it while they still could.

A tap on the doorframe caught her attention.

Vision was peering at her uncertainly from the doorway. He always knew when she was unhappy. He never seemed to know quite what to do about it, but he meant well.

Wanda pushed the little bottles aside on the vanity with the back of her hand to make room for her elbow. "Vis," she said.

"Merry Christmas," he offered.

He had used the door this time, and even remembered to knock. Wanda appreciated that. She rewarded him with as much of a smile as she felt ready for. She glanced back at the mirror.

"I…" Vision started, "made you something,"

He was being unusually hesitant. She saw her brows knit together in the glass. Then she turned to face him.

He was holding out a plate on his open palm, and his smile was…shy.

Her eyes flicked up to his, "An omelet, Vis?"

"I," his gaze dropped, "was afraid to season it. I've," he rubbed the side of his nose with his free thumb. "Had trouble with that in the past."

It was a nervous tic he had. Wanda found herself watching it with a fondness that was unexpected. Slowly, she got up from the vanity. She took the plate from him, shadowed under his height in the doorway. Her fingertips traced against the supple material of his skin. It was warm, just like hers. She looked up through her lashes. "Thank you, Vis."

Undeniable pleasure flickered in his golden eyes. "You're more than welcome," he said. Then, glancing aside he moistened his lips.

Watching him, she wondered, not for the first time, that she had argued that this man should not _be._ She would have killed, to prevent his creation. And now…

"Would you…join me?" he asked.

Wanda blinked in surprise.

"The others are gathering in the kitchen to eat," he explained, "and I'm – it would give them –" Pausing, Vision closed his eyes. Then he met hers squarely. "It would give _me_ great pleasure, if you were to join us."

She appreciated his gesture, and the invitation. But the idea of the Avengers gathering together in one place, the fact that _she_ was spending _Christmas_ with _Tony Stark_ …all of it was too much for her. It was too big. She'd looked down in an effort to escape Vision's eyes – she'd put herself too close to him to avoid looking at him in any other way, and she was unwilling to step back from him. Then she noticed again, what she was holding.

"No one's taught you how to cook yet," she said, "Have they."

There was a momentary pause as Vision struggles to keep up with her. "No," he said, after just one beat too long, "Agent Barton did show me some things, once, which I later found to be in jest."

Recalling the story as she'd heard Barton telling it, Wanda couldn't quite swallow a smile.

Vision seemed encouraged by that. "I've been more cautious in asking advice since then," he said. "I've yet to find someone to be a suitable tutor in the culinary arts, and having little by way of taste buds of my own…" he trailed.

It was an invitation. Without meeting his eyes, she knew it. But she was unsure what she felt about it.

Abruptly, she made up her mind, and she took his hand in her free one. "Come on," she said. "Let me teach you."

* * *

The kitchen was filled to bursting with good smells and jostling bodies. It wasn't the biggest room the Tower had to offer, and, on another day, Pepper might have wondered why they couldn't find some way to gather elsewhere. But on Christmas, she found, she didn't mind it.

Sam was working one stove while Pepper worked at the counter Laura _had_ been helping her, but she'd since gone in search of something Lila wanted. Wanda was sitting on the countertop along the opposite wall, facing Vision, indicating various spices as she spoke with him. She was laughing, really laughing and Pepper wasn't sure she'd heard Wanda laugh like that before.

Clint was shuffling around, making hot chocolate, wearing the socks Natasha had given him. He'd insisted that they were "lucky", and when asked why, he only pointed out the spiders on them. Tony had taken one skeptical look at them before deciding, "They're from the women's department."

Clint had only shrugged and taken the coffee pot away with him, a tube of whipped cream in his pocket and one steaming cup of hot chocolate in his hand.

Scott had gone off into some other room with Cooper and Lila. Tony had given them all Nerf weaponry to play with and Pepper was pretty sure that Scott was having at least as much fun as either of the kids were.

Tony, however, was not so easily distracted. She stopped for the third time, mid-turn, trying to hand a bowl of chopped vegetables to Sam. Tony had moved from hovering over her right shoulder, to sitting on the edge of the island behind her. She closed her eyes. "Tony…"

"What?" he protested. "You wanted me _present_. Here I am. I'm present, and now you're not happy."

Pepper wasn't impressed, "You're underfoot."

Steve appeared in the doorway. He was distracted for a moment as Wanda laughed. Seeing her, he smiled. Pepper was glad she wasn't the only one who noticed.

Steve presented himself to her, "What can I do?" he asked.

Tony coughed something about 'teacher's pet'.

Pepper gave Steve a smile. "If you wouldn't mind setting the table," she said, "That would actually be very helpful. You know where everything is."

Steve bobbed his head in an official kind of nod. "Yes ma'am."

As he vanished around the corner, Tony snorted. "Ms. Potts," he hopped to his feet. "Is there anything more I can help you with, _ma'am_?" He swept a bow, adding, "I thought I already _was_ helpful."

Pepper bit back a smile. "You can start," she said, "by getting out of my way."

Tony hooked a mushroom out of the bowl with one finger and popped it in his mouth. "You know," he started.

He still hadn't moved. Beginning to edge from amused to annoyed, Pepper raised one hand to stop him.

He grinned. "You're – ludicrously – attractive when frustrated."

Walking by, he put a quick kiss against her cheek.

Nathaniel was laughing at Natasha. She glanced up as Clint entered.  
"Laura's helping Lila find batteries," she said.

They were laughing in the kitchen, and dishes were clattering together.

"I know," Clint said. He slumped into the seat opposite her, putting his back to the door. It was the most vulnerable place, and a deliberate choice on his part. He was reminding her that she had his complete trust. She appreciated the gesture.

" _This_ ," Clint slid one of the two mugs across the table to her, "is for my _best_ friend."

Nat's eyebrow quirked. It was an old joke between them. Nathaniel waved one fist. "I thought your _wife_ was your best friend."

"She can't have everything," Clint recited his part, leaning back in his chair. "Merry Christmas, Nat."

She accepted the mug, "Merry Christmas," she agreed. Shifting the baby over to one side, she took a sip. "Nutmeg," she said. "Fancy."

Clint didn't bother opening his eyes. "Isn't it?"

"You look terrible." Natasha smiled.

Clint grunted.

Nathaniel twisted around, so she lifted him up and let him sit between them on the table. The little guy marveled at his new freedom. He didn't make much of it, though, happy to stare around him at all the things he could reach, should he motivate himself properly to move. "Laura said it was a short night."

"Stark walked in before six."

She moved a stray piece of tape out of Nathaniel's reach. "Shocking."

"Before _six_!"

"I, um," Natasha set her mug down, pushing it farther from the baby. "I opened your present,"

"Oh yeah, they're great, aren't they?"

"Egg cups, Clint?"

He knocked back whatever was in his mug and pushed himself upright on the chair, resting his elbows on the table. "Everybody loves egg cups." He flicked his fingers at the baby and Nathaniel's face lit up. "Got one for _everybody_."

Natasha chuckled.

"Ever tried spirits in your coffee?"

Her mouth quirked up in a quizzical smile, "As in…liquor, Clint?"

"Yeah," he grinned at the baby, "that. Not any of Strange's nonsense."

Nathaniel cooed and grabbed for his father's face.

"Sure," she shrugged. "Plenty of times. Why?"

"Stark's bar," Clint said, glancing at his cup, "is _well_ stocked. I've been experimenting."

"Oh?" she smiled. "Got any favorites?"

"You know," he shrugged. "The classics." He gestured towards her cup, "Want anything?"

Her eyebrows crept slightly higher on her forehead, "Isn't it a little early?"

"Nah, haven't you heard? Rum for breakfast doesn't make you an alcoholic, it makes you a pirate."

"He's right you know," Tony said, taking the seat alongside Clint. He bent over his elbows on the table. "Been trying to convince Ms. Potts for years."

Natasha smiled, steadying the baby as he lurched towards Tony, "Piracy, Clint? What would Laura think?"

"She's more of a bourbon girl," he deadpanned.

"An _impressive_ bourbon girl," Tony agreed. "Here," The baby was grinning at him. "Let me have that. I'm," he shrugged, "trying to practice."

Clint's eyebrows crept toward his hairline.

Natasha let the baby make his clumsy way across the table.

"Aw sure," Clint drawled, getting to his feet. "Ignore your father,"

"He likes his Uncle Tony best," Tony said. "Doesn't he? Give us a nod, Junior. See? Told you. Nothing's – " Stark was settling the baby, tugging down the leg of Nathaniel's pants to hide his chubby ankle, "Pepper and I – we're not – You know," he shrugged again, then raised his head. "No offense, Clint, but kids _gravitate_ towards me."

"Right," Clint drawled. "I'm just gonna leave my son here, and go get some more use out of the unlimited bar." He patted Stark's shoulder.

"While you're at it," Tony swiveled to look after him, "top Mrs. Barton off. I'm sure she'd appreciate it."

Clint managed to make it into the kitchen, and – what was Natasha's best estimation – nearly to the next door before they heard the crash. In the startled silence that followed, she heard Clint groan.

Natasha winced.

"Clint!" Laura sighed. It was hard to tell without seeing her face if she was more concerned about her husband or the mess he'd undoubtedly made.

She heard Clint give that dry chuckle that followed most of his more-predictable accidents. "I'm fine, Honey," she heard him say, "I'll clean it all up. Promise."

On the far side of the wall, Sam laughed. "Hey, you better!"

"You think I should go double check about how lucky those socks are?" Tony asked her.

Natasha smiled. "He never learns. Tile floors are not sock's friends."

"Too soon? Yeah," he sat back, "maybe you're right."

Natasha's mug was warm between her palms, "Did you send Harley a present again this year?" she asked.

"As a matter of fact – Here," Tony moved the baby, "scooch. I need eye-contact. Makes me feel…valued," he looked back up at her. "Not _only_ that, I invited him here. Couldn't come. Guess his life's going better than it was." He squinted at her, grabbing the baby's hand before Nathaniel could snatch off his glasses. "How did you know about that?"

Natasha just smiled.

His eyes narrowed. "It was Pepper, wasn't it?"

Nathaniel reached for his coffee.

Tony bent down to be on the same level as the baby. "Hey, front and center," he snapped his fingers. Nathaniel evaded him. "Well aren't we fractious this morning. I," he smooshed both Nathaniel's arms against his sides, " _do_ have presents for everyone."

Natasha's eyebrows rose, "On top of food and housing?"

"Generosity is only the _tip,_ " he said, "of the iceberg that makes up my good qualities. Anyway," he shrugged. "They're in the basement. Thought we could do a 'big reveal' later on." He avoided her eyes, keeping his attention on the baby. "What, you didn't get any new toys or anything? You like to keep busy? I like to keep busy. See? I do too. I _get_ you."

Giving a soft laugh, Natasha slid a rattle up onto the table. "He kept throwing it."

"Projectile expert." Tony said. "You take after your old man," Tony's hand fidgeted with his glasses, "Figures."

Looking toward the snow falling outside, she smiled. "Thank you, Tony," she said. "I don't think I've said anything yet, but this…" she glanced away from the window toward the inventor. He glanced toward her, but his main attention was on the baby in front of him. This was as hard for him to hear, as it was for her to say. But it was important. She wasn't sure how many of the others would think to say something. She nodded. "This is really nice. We wouldn't have all come together like this without you and I think," she tucked her hair behind her ear. "I think it's important to all just… _be_ together, you know? We needed this."

Tony was quiet. Nathaniel was teething on his new rattle, and for once wasn't making any new bid for attention, so the silence hung heavy for several beats. Natasha leaned back in her chair. She was uncomfortable, but what she'd said had needed to be heard, so she wasn't about to regret it for the sake of a few awkward minutes.

"Did I hear you right," Tony asked finally, "or are you actually being – _shockingly_ – supportive of me right now? Did Cap put you up to it?"

She laughed. "No, nothing like that," she glanced back at him. "This is good, Tony."

"So, you're coming next year, then? I can check the box? Because I _will_ have to know, at some point – for the Boss. Pepper likes to," he rubbed his ear, "you know – know things."

"You're planning on doing this again?"

Tony shrugged. "It's been a learning experience," he said. "I'd hate to waste the lessons. I like the," he drummed his fingers on the table, "noise. Keeps me – I don't know – present, I guess. So," he met her eyes again, "how about it? Next year."

She nodded her head. "Yeah," she said. Her mouth quirked in a little smile, "I'll come."

"We're doing this again next year?" wincing, Clint sunk down in the seat opposite her. He was wearing a different shirt now, she noticed. But he still had his trusty coffee pot. He set it down with a little _clink_ just outside of Nathaniel's reach.

Tony's eyes glinted. "Should I ask him? I'm gonna. So," he rested his chin on the fist that wasn't supporting Nathaniel. "How lucky are those socks now?"

"It's not the socks," Clint said, "It's you're floors. Here," he put a little tub on the table, "Laura wanted me to start feeding him. Assuming," his hand slipped on the edge, "as I'm sure she was, that I – a highly-trained adult – could open this harmless…little…I give up."

"Here," Natasha put out her hand, "let me."

The foil lid came right off in her hand.

Clint shook his head in admiration, "I still don't know how you _do_ that."

" _May he who is worthy_ …" Tony intoned.

"I know, right?" Clint laughed, " _By the power of Greyskull_."

Natasha held up one hand, showing off her fingernails. Nathaniel was paying close attention to the activities of the three adults, specifically Natasha. His eyebrows indicated curiosity. She beckoned for the spoon.

Clint drew it out of his pocket and slid it across the table to her. "You know, they make these things for adult use. You'd think they'd make it a little easier on us."

Nathaniel was watching her with rapt attention. His little pink tongue poked out between his lips.

"Hungry?" she smiled at him. "Come on," Natasha opened her hand, "let Aunty Nat help with that."

Stark moved his arm and let the little guy crawl across the tabletop to his breakfast.

Shuffling at the door let her know that Bruce had finally made it down. She looked up to smile at him, "Bruce?" she asked, "What is it?"

He was frowning at a wrapped package in his hand. "Did…did you notice this?" he asked her. "It was on the table by the door."

"No." Nathaniel lunged, missing the spoon and Natasha readjusted him on her lap. She ought to have noticed a package lying there. "Does it have a name on it?"

Bruce turned over the small, rectangular package, "…only mine…"

Tony snorted. "Does it need one?"

They looked at him.

Tony was sitting back in his seat, with his arms folded across his chest. "It's not mine, if that's what you're all thinking. Go ahead. Open it."

Bruce glanced at her.

Natasha put the spoon in Nathaniel's mouth. "Looks like you…" she smiled at Bruce, "have a Secret Santa."

He turned questioningly to Clint, but Clint just gave an open-handed shrug. "How bad could it be?"

Bruce coughed a dry laugh at that, but he opened the package anyway. "It's…a book," he said. He turned it over in his hands. It was an old book, the cover looked worn and soft, the edges of the pages were yellowed. " _The…Iron Man_ ," he said. "Ted Hughes?"

"Why'd he give that to _you_?" Tony protested.

"I've never heard of it," Natasha shook her head.

"Wait…" Clint held up one hand. "Isn't that the one _The Iron Giant_ was based on?" To Bruce's questioning look, Clint answered, "It was Cooper's favorite movie a while back. Laura likes to encourage books. It sounds familiar."

"I would _hope_ it sounds familiar," Tony looked affronted.

Natasha chuckled.

"Did he read it?" Bruce asked.

Clint shook his head. "Couldn't say. Does it have anything written inside?"

Bruce flipped it open. "No, nothing."

"Wait," Natasha looked at Tony, "you said 'he'. 'Why'd _he_ give that to you'."

Stark kicked one heel against the leg of his chair, fingering the handle of his mug. "I'll give you three guesses, but you'll only need one."

Even Nathaniel looked at him.

"It was Loki," he said. "I'm sure of it. Left Pepper a nice copy of _Emma_."

Bruce frowned, " _Emma_?"

Tony shrugged. "A classic. I don't know. She likes those kind of things," he rubbed his ear, "I guess it's some kind of romantic comedy. He didn't strike me as the kind of guy who reads those…but he had the decency to _sign_ hers. Said he thought she'd like it."

Bruce's eyebrows couldn't crawl any higher up his forehead. "Loki," he said, "read a romantic comedy?"

Tony cocked his head to one side, "Said he, 'thought she would find it amusing.' So – to me – yeah," he shrugged. "Sounds like he read it. Learn something new. In our case – Loki likes romance novels."

"Huh." Clint bobbed his head. "Wouldn't've guessed. Not surprised, I suppose. He _did_ like that Cinderella-story Thor was talking about."

"True," Bruce allowed. "Hey, has anybody _seen_ him lately?"  
"Not since last night," Natasha said.

"Little Asgard's vacant." Tony said glibly.

Bruce looked to Natasha, "Should we be worried?"

Thoughtfully, Natasha shook her head. "I don't think so."

Bruce watched her for a long moment.

" _I_ think," Tony interrupted, "since you're asking _me_ – that he took Thor up on his invitation after all."

Sam had told them about Thor's visit yesterday morning. Loki had kept his thoughts to himself the evening before, and as distant as he'd seemed, Natasha had thought it best to let him have what privacy he chose. If he wanted her advice, he'd have asked. But she hoped he had gone.

"So," she said, "books. _Emma_ for Pepper, and _The Iron Man_ for Bruce…"

"You'd better read that," Clint said. "There _has_ to be a reason he didn't opt for _Dr. Jekyll_."

Bruce balanced the book in his hands, "You don't think this is a gag?"

"Might be." Tony said, "Bastard got me a can of Raid. Left a note letting me know I'd need it. Bruce, as an educated man, do you think I'd have noticed it by now if he'd infested my house with some kind of…" he wriggled the fingers of one hand, "pestilence?"

"I'm," Bruce smiled uneasily, "not that kind of doctor."

"Yeah, but hypothetically."

"I think," Clint said, "he means us. But what _I_ want to know, is what he got everybody else. Because, so far, it's seemed pretty random."

Steve poked his head around the doorframe. "I hate to interrupt," he said, "but breakfast is on the table."

"Hey, Steve," Bruce held up his book.

Steve paused, "What's that?"

"Gift from Loki," Bruce said, "at least, we think it is."

Steve's expression darkened.

"What," Clint craned his neck, "he leave something for you?"

"Oh it's good," Tony grinned. "I know that look. Tell us, Cap. What'd the Grinch leave for Captain America?"

Steve grimaced. Then he sighed. "A copy of _Mein Kampf._ "

Tony's laugh was so loud that Nathaniel jumped.

Steve shot him a half-hearted glare. "It's not funny, Tony. Why?" Steve scanned the rest of them. "Did he leave the rest of you anything?"

"Raid," Tony said, standing up and clapping Steve on the shoulder. "Thinks I'm gonna need that to get rid of you all. Pretty sure my personality will do that just fine by itself, but I appreciate the gesture. Before we sit down, we are going to go and find out what else he's gifted us with because I need to know."

Steve took the baby. Tony led the way to the Barton-family wing first.

"Fairy tales," Clint said. "And _Robin Hood_."

"No note?" Bruce asked.

Clint shook his head.

When they got to Natasha's room, she found a slim package on the bedside table by the clock. She would have noticed it if it had been there when she woke up.

"What is it?" Stark asked.

Natasha looked at the little book. The binding was green, with lettering of gold and a cover bedecked in flowers. _"The Secret Garden_ ," she read.

She opened the book. _They say the end of a story is dictated – not by the beginning – but by what happens prior to the end._ The words were written in a smooth, sloping hand. Nothing else. No signature. No explanation. She set it back on the table. "It's him," she said. "I'm sure of it."

Bruce looked at her warily, "You're sure?" he asked. "Should we be worried?"

She met his eyes. "No," she said. "No. I think we're good."

Her heart felt lighter than she'd expected it to. She hadn't realized her own involvement in his story. Who would have ever thought that she and Loki might be friends?

Natasha smiled. "Let's go get breakfast," she said.

* * *

Ducking out the doorway, Pepper recoiled only just in time to avoid running into Tony. He had Nathaniel perched on one arm but took her shoulder and guided her out of the way of the people behind him. "Woah! Hey," He steadied the baby, "Look who we found?" he said to him, "It's Aunt Pepper." Scrunching up his nose he said, "I'm not sure what I think of that – as a title. Ms. Potts is better. Too formal, unfortunately. Pepper – on the other hand – is too informal…Are you tense?" he asked her, "You seem tense."

"I almost collided with you, Tony," she said, straightening her shirt. "I was startled."

Tony was looking at her like he did sometimes, closer. Like he was finally seeing past the surface because he cared about what was underneath. He reached out, and his hand was warm on her arm. He steadied her, even when she didn't need it. "You're sure it's not more than that?"

Leaning into the warmth of his touch, Pepper looked at him. The brown of his eyes was warm and soft. It was quiet in the hallway, apart from Nathaniel's little chattering noises. They'd set the long table in the conference room behind her, and everyone was talking. But out here, there was a refuge from the noise. She knew the smile on her lips was more than a little sarcastic.

"Okay, there's a lot of people," he allowed. "I get that."

Closing her eyes, Pepper lowered her head. One hand settled palm down against the place where for so long Tony had born the arc reactor. She savored the feeling of his skin beneath his shirt. "It's just that it's been a long time, Tony."

"You want more quiet," he nodded his head decisively. "Duly noted."

There was a long pause, broken only by the removed noises of chairs and dishes and people laughing together.

"He's cute, at least," Tony said, "Isn't he?"

Raising her head, Pepper smiled at the baby. "It's not that I don't like having them around," she said.

"No – hey," Tony took her hand in his, "hey, I get it. Two weeks was over the line. I get it. Hey –"

She met his eyes.

"It won't happen again," he said. Then he tipped his head, "Like this, anyway. Next year will be different."

Laughing, Pepper shook her head. Leaning in, she snaked one arm around his shoulders. "So," she murmured. "I took some time off of work. I was thinking maybe, after all of this was over, we could go away to Malibu for a while."

"Like,"

As Pepper lowered back onto the flats of her feet in front of him, his eyebrows climbed his forehead.

"– _not_ as a business trip?"

Pepper smiled at him. "Merry Christmas, Tony."

He took her shoulder as she tried to turn, "Wait – are you…? Wait. Start over." He cocked his head at her quizzically, "You're saying, that you want to go _on a vacation_ with me?" Disbelieving, he gave his head a little shake, "How much time are we talking about? A week? Ten days? Are you _serious_?"

Pepper's lips tugged up at the corners. "I took off a month, Tony."

"A…" he spluttered. Nathaniel waved his arms, nearly unbalancing himself, but Tony noticed it, even through his shock, and he steadied the baby. "You're sure?" he finally asked.

Pepper drew closer to him again. "It's been a long time coming," she said. Going up on her toes, she gave him a kiss on his rough cheek. Lowering back onto her heels, she found his hand and gave it a quick squeeze. "Let's go join the others."

"Hey, Pep," he said. "Maybe during our…vacation," he said the word carefully, like it was foreign to him, the way Thor and Loki pronounced certain words that they didn't yet understand, or trust. "We could talk about some…" Tony paused, looking for words, and not quite looking at her, "some…things."

Pepper paused, studying him. It wasn't like him to hang back. "Tony, what is it?"

"I…I mean," Tony hefted Nathaniel a little higher on his arm. "He's cute, right?"

Pepper raised her eyebrows, "You want a baby."

"I –" Tony floundered. "I can't tell if you're excited or not. I wanna…talk about it? At least? Can we?"

Motherhood was something Pepper did not feel qualified for. Not in the slightest. Watching Tony, seeing him with the Bartons' baby on his arm, she tried to imagine the baby was _theirs_.

Thinking back over the past years, she wondered when the last time had been that she'd _really_ felt qualified for anything in her life.

"Okay," she said, carefully.

Tony brightened.

"I'm not promising anything," she cautioned him. "But we can talk about it."

Tony still did not move, holding her hostage by one hand. "Hey," he said. There was something bright in his eyes and he was looking directly at her, brutally honest. It was when he was like this that Pepper loved him best. "I love you," he promised, "more than anything."

She squeezed his hand. "I love you too," she said. She tipped her head towards the conference room. "We should go. Breakfast will be cold before we get there."

"He _is_ cute though, isn't he?" Tony repeated as they rounded the corner into the room. His tone was the one he used for entertaining, flippant and loud. Pepper shook her head fondly. Tony bobbed the baby on his arm. "He's got Barton's cute little cheeks,"

Sitting at the table beside his wife, Clint laughed. "Don't even start, Stark."

"Looks like I already did." Tony quipped. "Here, someone wanna take this? He's about as heavy as his father is, too."

Laura extended her arms to take back her son.

"I _did_ mean what I said, Barton," Tony said as he handed over his gurgling burden. "You've got such _cute little cheeks_."

Clint chuckled, "Knock it off, Stark."

Having a better vantage point, Natasha was helping Pepper to fill her plate. Thoughtfully, Pepper watched Tony hand over the baby. For all his reckless attitude, his hands were gentle, and wasn't that something she'd always loved about him? Laura held her child easily, and Pepper wondered if she might learn to do the same thing.

She'd think about it, at least.

* * *

 **Just in time for Valentine's Day I give you...Christmas morning. lol. This was never my intent. I hope it was worth the wait.**

 **The book's Loki's giving out are kinda tongue-in-cheek - some more obvious than others. _The Iron Man_ is the story that inspired the movie _The Iron Giant_ (which is a very good movie I'd highly recommend. Dean is a treasure.) - featuring an inhuman character that sees himself as a monster and ends up as a hero. I think Loki was trying to be nice - without being obvious about it. I've never read the book - but (if Wikepedia is to be believed) there's some weird shit about some kind of alien dragon in there - maybe an illusion to the Chitauri? Maybe Loki think's _he's_ the alien monster while Bruce is the unlikely hero? I'd have to read the book. Either way, I thought it was worth it. (On a side note, this gift was a really late addition to the story, and I kinda wanted to go back and add some Loki/Bruce bonding. In editing I really just didn't find any obvious room for it. So I think there's a lot of potential growth for a friendship between them later on - but I think for now Loki's not being pushed away by Bruce - which is huge since Loki's making friends with his girlfriend. I imagine Loki's duly grateful.)**

 ** _Emma_ is a romantic comedy by Jane Austin - very flowery romantic literature. It fit with Pepper's love for the classics (I'm still not 100% sure how I read that into Pepper's character, but I did, so I'm running with it.) but there's also a movie adaptation where Gweneth Paltrow plays the leading lady. Pretty sure Pepper's never been in any movies, so probably that little joke is outside of Loki's scope of reference.**

 **I've read that fairy tales are the best books for children - Einstein had some very flattering things to say about them, as do I. I think they teach most of Life's more important lessons in a very safe and imaginative scope. Fairy tales are usually my go-to gifts for kids. Robin Hood is funny because of the archery bit.**

 _ **Mein Kampf**_ **(German for 'My Struggle') is a book penned by none other than Adolf Hitler. I don't know if Loki likes Bruce a lot more than he likes Steve, or if he just wanted to take a dig at Captain America's more self-righteous side. Maybe he wants Steve to remember that there's always many sides to a story.**

 **As far as _The Secret Garden_ goes - I knew it was important for Loki to get Nat something particularly special. It had to be _perfect._ About the time I was penning the notes for this story, I was going through all my childhood possessions that i'd squirreled away in the attic, and I came across my old copy of this book. I'd never cared for it as a kid, but I decided reading was more fun than unpacking boxes. - I could not more enthusiastically recommend this book. It ties for _The Hobbit_ as my favorite kid's book of all time. There is SO MUCH character development, and it is very delicately done. The characters give each other chances, and they all end up better versions of themselves than they'd ever thought possible. I liked imagining Loki reading it and getting more emotional than he'd ever admit. I also liked imagining Nat settling down with it and imagining what Loki might have thought about it. I really love the friendship between these two.**

 **Anyway, mile-long author's note aside - thank you for reading! You guys are all amazing and I am beyond flattered that so many of you keep coming back to my ungainly, out-of-season story! Merry Be-lated Christmas! And I hope you all have the Perfect Valentine's Day!**

 **-Natalie ;)**


	26. A Christmas Carol - The End - Officially

**Interlude ~ The Belated Epilogue Thereof**

 **Stave V: The End of It**

It did not prove to be so simple as Loki had hoped to trace the location Strange had led him to. His practicality warred against his pride. Pride won out in the end. He couldnot bring himself so low as to actually _ask_ the man.

Eventually, he become frustrated enough in his efforts that he simply hacked into Stark's most secure files, shutting his host's mechanical maidservant out just long enough to put his work in place and cloak himself. The work was so subtle that all she would have recorded was a hiccup that Stark would never think to blink at, and none of the recording devices would show anything at all. As for the devise itself, Loki was fairly certain that his magic would leave no evidence of its tendrils or their passage through its systems. He only traced an insubstantial hand across the sensors along the side of the machine and let it do the work for him. Should he be mistaken and his tampering become apparent, he slid in a simple hex that would result in confusion. Stark would only perceive that as the workings of his overexcited mind.

Smiling to himself, Loki waited. He paced along the edges of the room, his fingers drumming against the side of his leg in a nervous tic he refused to acknowledge.

Moments slid by, winding one into another, and the view of the Manhattan skyline the window provided had grown decidedly tiresome before the slightest tug thrummed against the very edges of his awareness.

Going to the screen, the words stared back at him. An address. Committing it hastily to memory, Loki dismissed the screen, tested the tenacity of the hex he'd placed, then, satisfied with his work, he drew together the spaces and stepped through.

It was a – slightly – wider gap than he'd anticipated. He felt it across his shoulders and along the curve of his spine. As the heaviness was insufficient to cripple him, he shoved it aside and faced the dwelling that stood before him. He swallowed past the sudden dryness in his throat.

Cars stood stationary in twos and threes in the thin snow along the street. All the houses looked the same to him. Some seven or eight doors down people were chattering and laughing, filing their way into one of the little white buildings. Packages that sparkled in the sun burdened their arms.

His hands fisted alongside him, covering a nervous flutter. He couldn't just stand in the middle of the street, looking at the houses. Eventually, _someone_ was bound to notice him and alert the authorities. The last thing Loki wanted was to explain himself to the Midgardian excuse for law enforcement.

Pushing past his own reservations and the cold pooling in his stomach he took the steps to the door belonging undoubtedly to Dr. Foster. He thought for one moment that he could just leave. But the sight of Thor's disconsolate face stayed him. Raising his hand, he gave himself no further time to vacillate and rapped on the painted wood.

There was no name on the mailbox, only the number. Loki wondered in a scattered sort of way how much permanence this place had. If it was merely a building Dr. Foster inhabited, or if she strove – after her own fashion – to make it a home.

No answer came from the opposite side of the door. Uncertainty coiled behind his breastbone. Ignoring it, he knocked again.

Still, there was no answer. Feeling ridiculous, Loki was on the point of turning away when he heard the sharp fumbling sounds of a lock being worked on the other side of the door. As the door opened, it revealed the girl he'd seen the day before. The saucy one. Darcy.

Her brown eyes widened behind the spectacles resting on her nose. Her eyebrows climbed, but she did not seem afraid.

Loki was fairly sure that he was unoffended by that – for now, at least. He had bigger things to concern him than one mortal's response to him.

"Uh, Thor…" Darcy called behind her. She didn't quite take her eyes off him. "I _think_ it's for you…"

The words had a ring to them that Loki couldn't explain. Almost as if he'd heard them before.

Darcy yelped when Thor grabbed her shoulder and shoved her aside. Assuredly Thor didn't intend to be rough, but the lummox wouldn't have bothered to read into her tone to see if she was amused or alarmed. If the visitor was someone coming specifically for Thor, Thor would only see that visitor as a threat. She ought to have known that. Loki set aside the course of events quickly, barely registering the way Thor's face had blanched.

"Loki…?" he said.

Loki did not understand why the words felt familiar to him. The sense was unsettling, building on the back of his neck like the last piece of a puzzle about to fall in place. "Hi."

Thor stepped back, allowing space for Loki to enter the house. "You're…" Thor said, "you're here."

"So it would seem." Distractedly, Loki took the implied invitation and went past his brother and into the house.

The obviousness of the situation hit him full force as the door shut behind him and he barked a laugh. "That absolute – insolent – _mountebank_!" Loki turned on Thor, who was standing with his back to the door and a surprised look on his face. "He _knew_!" Loki's hand dropped in a loose fist by his side. "He knew, this whole time. That's why…"

Abruptly, Loki realized where he was. Darcy was standing with her hands against the wall behind her in the next room, the room with the tree in the corner. Jane and Selvig stood gaping beyond it. Thor had let him in, and Thor had no idea what was going on. Slowly, Loki pivoted again to face his brother.

Thor was watching him, "You're here?" he asked, when he was sure Loki wasn't going to say anything. "To stay?"

The decision was already made. There was no use bungling more of it than he already had only to get back at the self-named _sorcerer_. Strange had never been overly friendly with Thor. He would be unconcerned with Loki's ultimate decision. Refusing Thro would be no kind of vengeance. Loki pressed aside his frustration as something that had no place here.

"If," he said, carefully, "the invitation yet stands."

Thor's smile was slow, but genuine. He cleared the space between them in two great strides and dragged Loki into a crushing embrace. Just this once, Loki allowed it.

"I'm sorry," Thor murmured against his ear as he released him.

Loki met his blue eyes very seriously. "So am I."

Thor's face split into a great smile and he clapped Loki's shoulder, jostling him against Thor's side. "Jane!" Thor called, as if the woman was not a matter of _paces_ away, "Come, meet my brother! Darcy! Eric!"

Slowly, with varying degrees of readiness, they all came.

"You'll meet Darryl any minute now," Thor said, rubbing his hands, introductions over with. "I've stayed with him when I didn't feel like putting up with Stark. He's a good guy." Thor cuffed Loki's shoulder again and Loki wondered how many times Thor needed to be assured of his real, physical presence. "He took me to his," Thor raised both hands to make air quotes, "'office', once. It was a very amusing experience. I think you'll like him."

" _Darryl's_ coming?" Jane protested.

"Well, yes," Thor said. "He's stopping by on his way to his mum's. We were roommates, Jane, I insisted. Didn't I…" Thor rubbed his chin, "tell you that?"

Selvig's brows knotted. "Thor," he asked, "how many people did you invite?"

"A…few?" Thor gave his most charming smile.

"I have to go find more plates," Jane muttered.

Selvig slanted Loki a suspicious look, "I'll go with you," he told Jane.

"It'll be good to have some _people_ around here," Darcy shrugged. Raising a plastic cup she gave a crooked grin, "God bless us, every one."

Loki looked at her sharply, but she appeared oblivious.

"Punch?" she asked. "Because, I can _totally_ hook you up with some punch."

Thor breathed an amused sigh, as she walked away. "It's good to have you here, Brother."

Recalling the despondency of Thor's speech in the now-past he had seen by Strange's art, Loki softened. He turned, letting Thor see the whole of his face. "I'm glad to be here," he decided.

Thor gripped his shoulder, "Come, Brother," he grinned. "Darcy's punch is well-enough by Midgardian standards. The outcome will be amusing before long."

"Really, Thor," Loki scolded, reaching for their old banter, "now you're starting to sound like me."

Thor inclined his chin, draping his arm across Loki's shoulders to guide him into the next room. "I should have joined you years ago!" His tone veered to something more sober, "There's much that might have been avoided, had I done so."

"Thor, stop." Loki shook his head, halting at the edge of the room, forcing Thor to come to a standstill or go on without him. "We're here _now_. We're both here now."

Thor turned to look at him, too closely for Loki's liking, but Loki allowed it. Thor needed it. His blue eyes were searching. Dropping his gaze, Thor rubbed the back of his neck. Then he glanced up. "Is it enough, then?" he asked, "is it wh–"

"Yes." He said it before Thor could go further afield.

Thor only watched him, reading Loki-knew-not-what from his eyes.

As much as he wanted to, Loki did not turn away. Thor's hand came down as a weight on his shoulder. Lifting his arm, Loki gripped Thor's in an old motion that had been so common in their youth. "It's enough," he promised.

Whatever he'd been looking for, Thor seemed to find it at long last. "Come, then," he grinned light-heartedly, throwing one fist into the sky in a pantomime gesture of his old arrogance, "Let the revels commence!"


	27. The Twelve Days of Christmas

**I.**

The Day After Christmas dawned still, quiet, weird.

Much as he wanted to say 'dawned', even Tony's hypocrisy knew some bounds. Rubbing at his ear Tony blearily surveyed the room over his steaming coffee. Late-morning was absolutely the best face he could put on it. But it didn't seem like anyone else had much steam this morning either.

It was becoming the 'new normal' to have everyone in his things. He was gonna feel just a little bit sorry to see them all go. Not too sorry. Malibu wasn't gonna wait for him forever.

Tony craned around on his bench, "Hey,"

Stirring something into her coffee with a long-handled spoon, Laura Barton smiled at him. She was slouching around in sweatpants, just like the rest of them.

"Where're the uh…" he held his hand palm down to the floor, "smaller…agents?"

Laura's mouth quirked upwards, making little dimples in her cheeks. "Can't get them away from their cartoons this morning," she said. Settling her back against the bar he sat at she gave her head a little tip, "They didn't sleep well."

Tony snorted. "Lightweights."

Softly, Laura chuckled, and sipped her coffee. The sleeves of the wrap she wore were made purposefully too long for her arms and they draped over her hands.

Tony glanced at her, "Even the baby?"

"Well," Laura shrugged. "Not quite. Clint's taking a turn with him."

"Still…" Tony shook his head, "having a hard time wrapping my head around that."

Laura smiled. "We were his dirty little secret for a very long time."

"Eh, more of a _secret_ little secret," Tony said. He traced his finger through the drops that had spilled onto the bar top, watching the way they pulled and stretched to make many smaller drops in the wake of his meddling hand. "Nothing dirty about it…Family, I mean," he shrugged, propping his forehead on one fist. "Messy…yes. All families are messy…"

A warm palm settled over the back of his hand and Tony looked up.

Laura was smiling at him. "For what it's worth," she said, "I think you'd make a great dad."

Startled, Tony shrugged it off. "Opinions vary," he quipped.

Laura's smile widened marginally, "Maybe not so much as you might think." She gave his hand a little squeeze, then went off to tend to her own family.

She left Tony feeling flummoxed, to say the least. But not for long.

"Look who it is," Tony drawled, not bothering to sit up, "My three favorite people."

Bruce and Natasha took the seats next to him on one side of the bar. Steve went past them to the mini fridge and removed a water bottle he tossed to Natasha, then another for himself. Bruce refused the implied offer, "I'm good, thanks."

Taking in the active wear Natasha and Steve were sporting and the way they held the water bottles, Tony snorted. "Can you not take _one_ day off?"

"I did," Steve took a swig of water like some men took whiskey, "yesterday."

Natasha smirked and Tony muttered, "Unbelievable,"

"Hey," Bruce cut in, "we didn't call them 'The Greatest Generation' for sitting on their hands."

"You too?" Tony accused.

Bruce raised his hands in a kind of mock surrender. "I just watched."

"And walked on the treadmill," Steve corrected.

"And walked on the treadmill," Bruce confirmed.

"So, um," Tony decided it was time to change the subject, "Miss Rushman, if you wouldn't mind letting me in on a few of your secrets, is there any word on when the resident demigods might choose to grace us with a visitation?"

"Believe it or not, Stark," Natasha said, "I only _act_ like I know everything."

"Well," Tony shrugged, "At least it's convincing."

Glancing at him, Natasha shared his smile.

"Unfortunately," Tony redirected again, "Project _Christmas Carol_ is out of the bag courtesy of the, lovely, CEO of Stark Industries. So I think I'm gonna need a new plan of attack – or rather," he shifted to face Natasha, "– _evasion_ if you will. You got any pointers? Spy classes? 'Suspicion 101'? 'How to be Paranoid'? Maybe 'The Idiot's Guide to Staying Alive After Pissing off a Nordic Deity'?"

Natasha took a long drink from her water bottle and leaned back against the bar, resting her elbows behind her on it. "He's not gonna do anything," she promised, at length.

"Oh?" Tony asked, "was that part of what you two were getting all chummy about?"

She raised one eyebrow in an indirect show of amusement.

Tony pressed the issue, "You know I have bad memories with Russian, right?"

Natasha averted her eyes before flicking them back up at Tony with a bitter little smile. "Let's not start that contest," she said.

"I think Natasha's right." Steve said. He was still standing with his back to the fridge and his arms folded across his chest. "If Loki was going to do something serious he would have done it by now."

"No offense," Tony said, "since I know we're all friends now…but how do we know he hasn't pulled the wool over anybody's eyes? _God of Lies_ is a pretty obvious disclaimer."

"Mischief," Bruce said.

Frowning, Tony rounded on him, "Pardon?"

"Loki is the…god of…uh," Bruce gave his head an apologetic kind of tip, "…mischief. Not lies."

Tony gave him a look that he hoped scorched. "Does that really help us here?" he demanded.

"Honestly?" Steve said, "I think it does."

"Yeah," Bruce agreed. "From what I've seen of Loki, he's more of a 'heat of the moment' kind of guy. Any of his recent long-term plans were less…harmful," Bruce shrugged, "toward us."

"Not to dredge up the past," Tony said dryly, "but _are you serious_?"

Bruce met him look for look. "When was the last time he hurt one of us?"

Tony didn't miss a beat. "Last week. When Pepper fell of the stepladder."

"Tony," Bruce sighed. He rubbed a hand down his face. "He didn't mean for that to happen. He…fixed her."

"For what it's worth," Steve added, "I've never heard him apologize like that. Now, I'm not particularly big on _deception_ , but I like to think I know when someone's being honest. Loki meant it when he apologized to her."

Giving a long sigh, Tony looked at Natasha. "As _the_ spy in the room, you're about to say you agree with him?"

"You know that I do," she said. "We've all had second chances, Tony."

"None of us are proud of everything we've done," Steve said.

Tony tipped his chin back to meet Steve's eyes. "That's a lot," he said glibly, "coming from Captain America."

Steve's eyes hardened. "The truth is like that sometimes."

"Guys," Bruce interrupted, "not that I'm not having a great time, but can we table this for another day? It's the day after Christmas."

"I'm a little on edge, okay?" Tony protested. "I might have a hit out on me, because I was trying to make someone's day a little better, and my beautiful fiancée decided to _show him the movie_."

"If anybody _should_ be on edge," Steve said thoughtfully, "It's Dr. Strange."

"I concur," Bruce said immediately. "Loki already hated him."

Tony dropped his chin so that he was looking at Bruce over the top of his glasses. "You're inferring, Doctor…"

"That he doesn't hate _you_?" Bruce interrupted. "I am."

Confused, Tony looked to Natasha. Her mouth twitched like she was trying not to laugh. "Whatever he feels about you, Stark," she said. "If he hated you, we all would have known about it before now."

"Wait, what do you mean we would have 'known about it before n–'"

The doorbell cut him off.

"Don't answer that!" Sam and Scott both chimed from their places on the couches across the room.

"I _cannot_ do this today," Bruce said. He wrung his hands. "If I have to hear someone sing _Silent Night_ one more time…"

"I can't answer for RedWing's actions if any more carolers come into my proximity." Sam added.

Standing up, Tony raised both hands in surrender and turned to face everyone in the vicinity. "Nobody's home," he promised. "Friday?"

"Too late, Boss," Friday said. "Vision's already let him in."

Across the room, Sam groaned.

"Wait…" Bruce said, " _him_?"

The elevator _dinged_ , and Vision stepped out, talking pleasantly as he guided Rhodes. He broke off mid-sentence, sensing the tension in the room. His brow creased. "Has something happened?" he asked.

"Yeah," Rhodey looked them all over, "If now's a bad time…"

Something clicked behind the android's eyes, "Ah," he said, giving a deep nod. "I think I understand. Col. Rhodes, our friends appear to be suffering from something they call 'doorbell PTSD'."

"Doorbell…" Bewildered, Rhodey shook his head. "Look, I'll just come back–"

Tony left the bar area to greet him. "You couldn't have come at a better time," he said.

"Yeah?" Rhodey looked at all of them, "Tell that to your faces."

Tony patted his back. "Door-Bell PTSD."

Rhodey studied him. "You're serious," he realized. "Tones, that's not a thing."

Tony grinned, "Not yet. Come on, I've got a new argument for you to take _my side_ on."

 **II.**

The alarm came about two hours later.

"Boss,"

Red lights were flashing over the doors and windows. "Yup," Tony got up, his eyes on the lights. Steve and Rhodes stood with him. "See 'em."

The pagers located on their persons all started buzzing, beeping, and flashing.

Tony's heartrate sped up, thrumming through his veins. "Alright," he raised his voice, getting everybody's attention with a quick clap. "Party's over." He gestured towards Steve, "Greatest Generation..?"

"Get your stuff," Steve said. "Let's suit up." He glanced backwards at Tony, with a smirk, "Greatest Generation?"

Tony raised both hands. "I didn't coin it."

 **III.**

Within minutes, they'd taken to the sky. Five to the air, five to the quinjet. Strange would catch up to them by his own means. One could only hope Thor and Loki would make a timely appearance and that Loki wouldn't decide it was a good time to avenge his wounded pride. Pepper and Laura were in the Tower with the kids. Friday had the Tower on lockdown. As they sped through the clouds, Tony had Friday give Happy a call, the result of which was that the bodyguard was now on his way to supervise activity at the Tower. "Wait," Tony frowned at Friday's sensors, "what is your car doing so close to home?"

 _"Lucky for you,"_ Happy said testily, _"I happened to be in the neighborhood."_

"Yeah. Sure. You're on the way?"

" _I'm on my way."_

"Coffee can wait. I have coffee at the –"

"I'm on my way."

Tony hung up. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. Tony loved it. He hated the danger, but he loved the rush.

Natasha was keeping them posted from the quinjet. But so far, she'd had nothing to post them on besides the coordinates.

"You're telling me," Tony demanded, "that we have a red alert and Fury's not answering his phone?"

Neither was Hill, any unidentified SHIELD agent, or anyone on Rhodey's end.

 _"Not like advance notice was gonna help us much,"_ Rhodes commented as they landed.

Later on, when there was less to occupy his mind, Tony would have to concede his point. The location they'd been given was less than twenty minutes flight from the Tower.

 _"I need eyes,"_ Cap's voice sounded tinny through the speakers. _"From where I'm standing there's nothing here."_

 _"Affirmative Captain,"_ Falcon cruised, swooping up on his wings so he'd circled the perimeter of the area they were looking at. _"That's because there's nothing to see."_

 _"I don't get it…"_ a static crinkle cut off Bruce's voice. _"All I see's a warehouse."_

Tony didn't see anything more. "Friday?"

"There's…" Friday trailed. "I can't get through the warehouse walls," she admitted. "Something's blocking my signals."

 _"It's not like we have the only stealth operatives out there,"_ Hawkeye commented.

"Well," Tony decided, "let's see what it looks like from the ground. Shall we?"

Tony's repulsors let him down lightly onto the asphalt. A crackling on the air beside him sparkled to life in an orange spiral that revealed Dr. Strange. The pavement about ten yards to his left cracked under Thor's landing. The rest of the team was drawing up behind him.

Belatedly, he realized that Loki had been standing behind him and a little to his left for an unknown length of time. Since he was currently still alive, he'd worry about Loki later. Whatever it was that was in that warehouse was their problem now.

"Well," Falcon said, "would you look at that."

A SHIELD issue black car was pulling up between them and the front of the warehouse. It stopped, and the back door opened.

"You know," bow lowered, Hawkeye eyed his nearest companions, "for a dead guy, he certainly gets around."

Hands in his pockets, trench coat blowing behind him in the wind, came Nick Fury.

A second car pulled up behind the first. The driver's side door opened.

"Laura…" Hawkeye calmly drew back the string, "You've got some explaining to do Fury," he said. "Start with: why's my wife driving one of your cars?"

The back doors of the second car opened, revealing the Barton children. Giggling and laughing.

"Are those my…" Clint gave up. Swearing quietly under his breath he muttered, "This better be some kind of joke."

Glancing aside, Tony assessed that everyone seemed as confused as he was, which was reassuring at least.

A figure on the far side of the second car straightened, laughing at the antics of the children, brushing red hair from her eyes.

"You've gotten _my_ girl involved? Now I'm pissed," Tony murmured. "Not cool, Fury. _Not cool_."

Then with a final slam of car doors, Happy emerged from the driver's side of Fury's vehicle.

Tony threw out his hands in exasperation. He flipped back his faceplate. "So this was all a set-up?" he demanded.

"It would appear," Vision suggested, "that the former director has 'pulled one over' on us."

"Oh," Dr. Strange _oozed_ sarcasm, dropping his hands as the glowing figures that surrounded them winked out. " _really_?"

"They say," Fury called across what space lay between them, "that in the old days…"

"Oh, here is comes," Tony heard Falcon mutter.

Fury paid their murmuring no mind. "Christmas," he continued, "was celebrated for not one, but _twelve_ successive days, _after_ the holiday itself, marking both its culmination and completion with the Christian festival of the Epiphany – which, legend has it, is the day the Magi – alternatively called _Wise Men_ from the East – _finally_ made it to Bethlehem to present the Christ Child with their gifts. Gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh."

"What's your point, Fury?" Cap demanded. "And why did you involve our families?"

Fury held up one hand, "I'm getting to that." He removed his sunglasses, rubbing them clean on the hem of his shirt. "Word has reached me that _someone_ –" he glanced up, "And I'm looking at _you_ , Stark – had a pretty big boast. A pretty big boast," he settled the glasses back on his nose, "which I am here to falsify. And I told you that story," Fury raised one finger, "because the last thing I wanted was to have some _wise man_ telling me I was late."

Turning on his heel, Fury gestured to the wide doors of the warehouse, which were steadily lifting to reveal the furnishings of a lavish – if unorthodoxly situated – party.

Steve made a sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. "Fury, you son of a bitch."

Tony raised his hand. "I second that."

"Because there aren't _better_ uses for SHIELD's funds," Falcon chuckled, shaking his head.

Pepper was drawing up behind the former director. Her hair was whipping around her face, obscuring her smile. "I'm sorry Tony," she laughed, reaching him. "I had no idea!"

Putting his arm lightly across her shoulder, Tony eyed Happy. "You're fired."

Standing beside Fury, Happy spread his hands. "I just do as I'm told."

"Oh?" Tony demanded. "And who's giving the orders now?" he indicated Fury, "Him?"

"I _did_ orchestrate Mr. Hogan's assistance," Fury admitted, patting the bodyguard's broad shoulder. "But I did not work alone." Fury's mouth pulled into a slow smile as he turned, beckoning Laura and the Barton children into the group. "It was a, _family_ , effort."

Laura bit her lip, smiling apologetically at Clint. "Sorry Honey, I _did_ want to tell you,"

Retracting his bow, Clint sighed. "You know, I'm finally starting to understand how you got Slitherin."

Natasha's head cocked a little to one side. "Every Hufflepuff needs a bodyguard," she grinned at him. "You know you love us."

Tony rounded on her, "You knew about this?"

Her eyes sparking with laughter, Natasha shook her head.

Scott sprang suddenly to full size, "We're in the clear?"

Scanning the edges of the lot, Bruce nodded. "Looks like it."

Rhodey stepped forward, face-plate retracted, both hands raised. "Before you get too upset," he said, "I _did_ swear Laura to secrecy."

"Oh, so it's _your_ fault," Tony said.

Leaning against his chest, Pepper laughed.

Rhodes shrugged. "Finer points of the job, Tones."

Wilson chuckled, retracting his wings with a _snap_. "I take it nobody's gonna point out that Cap just said a bad-language word."

"Wilson," Steve groaned. "Will it never die?"

Tony snorted.

"The greats never do, Captain Rogers," Fury answered. He gave them a grim smile. "At ease, Avengers. And Merry Christmas."


	28. Epilogue I - Gold

**I.**

"So," Rhodes set his mug on the countertop. "You think it worked?"

Shaking her head, Pepper gave a breathy laugh. "I don't know." She looked at him. "I hope so. I guess…" she took a deep breath. "I guess we'll have to wait and see."

The Tower was alive with laughing and talking. Everyone was saying their goodbyes or making plans or dragging all manner of bags from their rooms to their cars. Lila and Cooper seemed to be everywhere at once. At the moment, Pepper couldn't imagine ever wanting children of her own. She had found a moment's quiet in the kitchenette. Rhodey had found her there.

Scott ran past the open door in a flash of movement, no doubt tearing after one of the kids.

"They're gonna have to have him over sometime so he can get _this_ out of his system in a less hazardous environment." Rhodey pointed out dryly. "I hear Barton has a _farm_ , with lots of _pastureland_."

Pepper laughed. Casting a grateful look over her shoulder at him she said, "It's not the worst this Tower's taken."

"Nnooo," Rhodes allowed, "but everything has its limits."

Somewhere down the hall and blessedly out of sight, something clattered onto the ground. Someone shouted, someone else gave a sputtered laugh.

Pepper kneaded her fingertips against her eyes. "I'd hoped he'd get more interested in the djembe, and less in the guns," she murmured. "Maybe start the kids on a drum circle." She dropped her hands, turning to Rhodes. "What was I thinking?"

Rhodes chuckled. He put a hand on her shoulder. "You okay?"

"Oh, I'll be fine," Pepper promised, "just as soon as all this quiets down. I've taken some time of work," she told him, candidly. "It's my Christmas gift to _both_ of us."

"Well you take care of yourself," Rhodey said. He patted her shoulder. "I'll make sure nothing blows up while you're gone."

"Don't even joke about that," Pepper pushed her hair back from her forehead. Taking a deep breath, she looked at him again. "Thank you, Rhodey."

"Hey," he shrugged. "It's the least I can do after everything you out up with."

She smiled at him. "We _both_ put up with."

"I get to give him _back_ after the weekend," Rhodey smiled. Then he looked past her shoulder. "Hey, Vision, you ready to get back?"

"I have one more stop to make," the android answered. "I will be only a moment, Col. Ms. Potts," Vision inclined his head deeply, "if I do not get the chance again before we depart, I want to thank you for your hospitality."

"Of course," Pepper smiled. "It's always a pleasure, Vision. We'll see you both after we get back."

 **II.**

"You're leaving with Banner and Strange?" Steve zipped the bag closed on his bed.

"Yeah," one shoulder against the doorframe, Natasha shrugged. "They have a mutual interest in what Strange had stored in the Sanctum."

Steve smiled, "And both you and Strange have a mutual interest in Dr. Banner,"

Natasha gave a soft chuckle.

"Here." Loki appeared in the hall behind her and Natasha turned. He thrust a squirming Lila into her arms.

"What's this?" Natasha protested.

" _This_ ," Loki snarled, straightening his shirt, "thinks it wise to hide _under my feet_. Her parents are nowhere to be found, so I'm leaving her with you."

Lila put her feet in Natasha's hip, hoisting herself higher up and Natasha winced. Lila's lower lip protruded. "I just wanted to play," she whimpered.

Exasperated, Loki flicked his hand in a silencing gesture. "No," he snapped. "You have _plenty_ of people in this tower who will play with you."

"Yeah," Steve smirked, straightening from the bed. "But she wants to play with Uncle Loki."

Loki's eyes slid past Natasha and studied Steve for about a second longer than Steve thought was strictly necessary before he offered a thin smile. "I believe she has plenty of more acceptable persons _and_ plaything to amuse herself with, _besides_ her own blood-related family," he said, the silk of his tone almost managing to cover the biting emphasis. "If you'll excuse me."

Before he could whisk out of the doorway, Natasha murmured something in Russian.

Steve raised one eyebrow. Lila peeped and leaned back, watching her aunt with new interest.

Loki rounded on his heel, his eyes very hard. "What?" he demanded.

Shrugging one shoulder, Natasha said, "Maple syrup is thicker than blood," her eyes glittered with latent amusement. "It's something Clint likes to say. He says it means pancakes are more important than family."

"Does Daddy really say that?" Lila giggled.

"Very seriously," Natasha nodded. She wrinkled her nose, tickling Lila's belly, "He doesn't mean _you_ of course."

Throwing her head back, Lila cackled. She pushed Natasha's hand away.

Loki was watching Natasha. "You know," he said finally, "the fact that – in hand-to-hand combat he chooses a _bow and arrow_ – surprises me less and less the more I know of Clint."

Not bothering to stifle his smile, Steve rubbed the back of his neck. "He's not wrong though," he said, "it _is_ thicker."

Steve watched as Loki did what Tony called a 'perceived-intelligence-downgrade'. It was only infrequently that Steve found himself on the receiving end of such an expression.

"The original expression – if I remember correctly," Loki said, "is 'the blood of the covenant is thicker than the waters of the womb'. It means _literally_ the opposite of its currently accepted meaning."

"So Clint's not that far off," Steve said. "huh. Wouldn't've guessed. You and Thor back on your way to Asgard?"

"Not fast enough." Loki answered. "And as pleasant as this is, I _do_ have places to be."

"Hey," Natasha reached out an arm to stop him. She said something else in Russian.

Steve averted his eyes, looking over his room to be sure he'd gotten everything he was likely to need. Loki's voice murmured something in answer to her, but Steve didn't turn around. Whatever was going on, this was Nat's operation. He supported her in it, but what passed between the two of them was none of his business.

When he glanced back up, he found Natasha back within the room, her expression thoughtful, with a pouting Lila on her hip.

As he watched, Lila smiled.

Steve quirked an eyebrow.

"I'm gonna invite Loki to my birthday party," Lila decided. "Then he _has_ to come."

Natasha's face twitched with amusement.

"That…" Steve let his mind wander, imagining the possibilities, the phone calls… "will be an interesting party."

"You're all set?" Natasha asked him.

Steve picked up his bag.

Of all the Christmases he'd spent…this was probably the strangest.

 **III.**

"Yeah," Banner was saying, "but did you notice that everything from Stephen," Bruce wriggled his fingers, "had to do with hands?"

"Son of a gun," Tony drew up a second, running through the evidence in his head. He came up with nothing to contradict Bruce's statement. "And you claim not to be _that_ kind of doctor. Maybe you should look into branching out that way, if avenging's ever not your style."

Bruce gave his soft, low chuckle. "I don't know that I have the opportunity for style."

"Oh come on," Tony drawled as he walked ahead of Banner to hold open the door, "don't say that in front of your lady,"

Natasha was outside, talking to Strange and Rhodey. Lila Barton was perched on Rhodey's arm. Vision and Pepper stood nearby. Natasha turned when she heard them coming and reached for the bag Tony was hefting for her, "Thanks, Stark."

"What do you keep in there?" he demanded, massaging his wrist.

" _That's_ dangerous ground," Rhodey said.

"Hey, I'm a big kid," Tony countered. "And _that_ ," he pointed at the bag, "is too heavy for a purse. So, what's in it?"

"Well, since you asked," Natasha smirked, "my soul."

"It's heavy," Tony deadpanned.

She levelled a look at him, "So you noticed?"

"Yeah, okay." Tony backpedaled. "I'm out."

"Took you long enough," Strange muttered.

Ignoring him, Tony stuck out his hand. "Pleasure seeing you, Doctors." Turning, he shook Banner's hand, then gripped it, clapping his shoulder. Backing up, he pointed at Natasha, "Agent Rushman," he said, "Don't have too much fun without me,"

She smiled at him. "We'll call you if anything gets interesting."

Leading Bruce and Nat away, Strange turned to survey his guests, "What are your thoughts on Chinese?"

"Alright," Rhodey said. "We've really got to go. I'm going to have to set you down,"

Lila squeaked a protest and obligingly, Tony held out his arm.

Pepper watched the transfer with an expression Tony couldn't quite place, and that made him nervous. "What?" he demanded, "I can be endearing."

Wordlessly, Rhodey clapped one hand against his shoulder. "Been weird," he said. "Let's not do this again."

"Oh we're doing this again," Tony promised.

"Let's not."

"And next year you'll be here for the whole thing."

Rhodey shook his head, "No I won't."

Tony grinned, "Yes you will."

Bracing her hand on Tony's shoulder, Lila peered into his face, "Can I come next year?"

Tony blinked. Turning his head, he looked at her very seriously. "Lila," he took her hand with his free one, "I can honestly say, it wouldn't be Christmas without you."

The skin next to her eyes crinkled when she smiled. Someday she'd have laughter lines just like Laura's. She threw her arms around Tony's next. "I love you, Uncle Tony."

Flustered, Tony hesitated, then awkwardly patted her back. He blinked away the sudden stinging behind his eyes.

Rhodey was sighing. "Why do I even bother arguing with you. Pepper?" he looked past Tony, "Thank you." He waved, "Good luck."

Pepper waved to him.

Using the moment to compose himself, Tony rounded on her, cradling the little girl against his shoulder. "'Good luck'? Why do I always feel like you guys are ganging up on me?"

Pepper rubbed his arm, "That's your self-awareness kicking in," she smiled. "Don't worry, Honey, it'll turn off again in a second."

 **IV.**

Wanda sat very still on the edge of the bed, her bag packed and settled at her feet.

Vision had come to see her before he'd left. He was going with Col. Rhodes. They worked together. Before he'd left he'd confided to her, in his own awkward way, that he was concerned about her.

Wanda didn't know what to make of that.

She'd been fond of Vision from the first time she'd seen him as a _person_ – when he had come to save her from the wreck of her world that was literally falling out of the sky. He was as bizarre and out-of-place as she. He was wrong-footed and ignorant about so much that he could be kind, even to her. He accepted everything, no matter how strange, as a matter of course, because what could be stranger than his own existence? She loved that in him. They had a certain kinship in their trials. The stone that gave him life had given her _this_ life. With Pietro gone, there was no one else in the world who could understand what that meant. This world was no place for either of them.

But he was fresh and innocent in a way that she could never be. She envied that in him as much as she loved it. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt unspoiled. And she was not prepared for what he might ask of her. His interest in her was of a different kind than Clint's interest, or Steve's. Vision's passion was…different. And Wanda wasn't ready for that. Not yet.

Laura was kind.

Wanda studied the patch of floor and the way her foot disrupted the pattern on the carpet. Her eyes were the only part of her that moved, and the fingers of her hand that lay ignored on her lap.

Laura Barton was kind and she did not flinch when Wanda used her magic. She didn't hide her children.

The day that they had met was the first time when Clint had taken her to his home. Wanda had been overwhelmed with all the noise and she had left them all gathered – Clint and Laura, Cooper, Lila, Nathaniel, Natasha – all making dinner together. Cautiously, Wanda had laid down the knife Laura had handed her next to a half-chopped pepper, and she'd retreated to the den, pressing her back to a wall, willing the shadows in the dimly-lit room to swallow her. Magic swelled, pressing against the tips of her fingers, and she'd raised them, watching the flicker of red light as it vibrated through her.

Laura had walked in on her, and she'd let out a soft gasp, then shaken her head, gathering a dish cloth from the hamper left on the floor, and she'd said carelessly that she'd thought no one was in the room. She'd asked if Wanda was alright, if she needed anything. She'd made no mention of her magic. She'd never treated Wanda any differently than she treated anyone else.

A rap on the doorframe startled her out of her thoughts. Clint was leaning on his elbow in the doorway, "You comin' or what?" he asked.

Distractedly, Wanda brushed her hair behind her ear, "One second."

"One second I can do," Clint said lazily, "I've still got to find my daughter. But once she's in, we're out."

Wanda smiled. "Okay. I'll be right down."

"You have any idea how hard it is to get three kids in the car?" he asked. "Because I sure didn't. If they get out again, they're staying here," he pushed off from the wall, disappearing into the hall as he said, "then my sons would grow up just like _Stark_ and I'm not sure I could live with myself."

Taking a deep breath, Wanda looked over the room one more time.

She was going to live with the Bartons. At least for a while. They weren't afraid of her.

With the Bartons, maybe she could learn to be human again.

Standing up, Wanda squared her shoulders, and she picked up her bag.

 **V.**

"Woah, now." Stark pulled back by the wall and almost out of Loki's way.

Jaw locked, Loki drew up short.

Lila was perched on Stark's arm. One finger bent against her lips she gave Loki a precocious grin.

Loki narrowed his eyes at her, then turned to favor Tony with a glance, "Stark,"

"You," Stark eyed the box Loki was carrying, "didn't strike me as the delivery-boy type."

"Nor you me as an _au pere_ ," Loki countered, shortly. He'd been fumbled too many times by _that child_ , accosted by Laura Barton to help her with either her infant or a box, and stopped every other turn for the past thirty minutes for pleasantries, and all he had intended to do was pass off the child on some more willing person. "If I could get by…"

Tony put his back to the wall, giving Loki just enough room to pass by, "Hey, you and your brother still coming for _Star Wars_?"

Pausing on the far side of the hall, Loki slanted him a glance. He remained undecided what game he thought Stark was playing. For or against, Loki respected the man for his nerve, if nothing else. And Stark was amusing to watch when he was guessing. Judging from the way he held his shoulders, Stark was not at all certain Loki was not about to exact some sort of vengeance.

He needn't have been concerned, Loki decided, Strange would bear the brunt of that.

He didn't quite turn back to face Stark, letting his question hang on the air just longer than was necessary. "Possibly," he allowed.

 **VI.**

"So," there was a hollow _clunk_ out of sight in the depths of Sam's trunk. He muttered something unintelligible before continuing, "You doing anything this evening?"

Standing beside the passenger-side door, Steve gave a slight smile. "Nothing planned," he replied, "You?"

Straightening, Sam rested his hands on his hips and surveyed his work. "Was thinking of maybe catching a movie," he shrugged. He beckoned for the bag Steve held for him with a quick, angled smile. "There's always room, you know."

"I've gotta check on my plants…"

Chuckling, Sam slammed the trunk, "This isn't middle school, Cap. If you don't wanna come, you can just say so."

"I'm serious!" Steve protested.

"Sure," Sam allowed, "Here," he held open the passenger-side door, "We'll swing by your apartment on the way. Look after your _plants_."

Shaking his head, Steve smiled. "I really _do_ have plant, Wilson."

"Uh-huh. We'll come back for your bike later."

 **VII.**

Amusement crackling in his eyes, Thor didn't bother turning to see who had entered. Folding the last of the shirts he'd brought, Thor nestled them easily into his bag.

"You certainly took your time," he said.

Loki dropped unceremoniously backwards onto the couch.

Thor smiled to himself. Loki had been so nettled by the child he hadn't gotten far in his own packing. Really, all he'd managed to far was to pull everything he intended to shove in the bag from the obscure corners of his room into one pile. Since Thor was finished with his own, he picked up one of Loki's shirts. "I _told you_ ," Thor schooled his voice to something more sober, "her parents _would_ have found her."

"Mm," Loki said bitterly, "any _other_ gems of wisdom you care to share today?"

"Well," Thor held up a shirt he was fairly sure had once belonged to Stark. He wondered briefly how his brother had come by it, then shook his head. "Something _had_ occurred to me, while you were gone." He folded the shirt and laid it aside, taking up another one. Not bothering to hide his smile, Thor let the silence drag.

To his credit, it took Loki longer to rise to Thor's bait than he'd expected and Thor was just beginning to lose confidence when Loki sat up on the couch. "What are you doing?"

"I'm packing your bag," Thor said, turning back to look at his brother, "because _you_ ," Thor pointed at him, "haven't."

Giving a soul-deep sigh, Loki's eyes shut and he dropped back out of sight on the couch. "I knew better than to leave you alone," Thor heard him mutter. "I _knew_ better."

Thor closed the distance between them and rested folded arms on the back of the couch, grinning down at him. "Admit it."

Loki set his jaw. Before he could open his mouth, Friday interrupted them, "Hey, Thor? Mr. Stark wants me to remind you that you're both due back for _Star Wars_." The A.I. paused. Loki was glaring at him, Thor could feel it. "He didn't think Loki would tell you."

"I thank you," Thor answered, "Tell Stark we shall _both_ be in happy attendance."

"Who's the God of Lies _now_?" Loki said.

Thor raised both eyebrows. "Oh? How do you intend to back that up?" he demanded. "Really. I'm interested to see how you make this argument."

A flurry of expressions flashed by behind Loki's eyes before he settled on an indignant, "I'm _not_ coming back."

"Sure you are," Thor scoffed. "You know you had fun. You _don't_ ," Thor raised one hand to stop his spluttered protests before they could start, "have to admit it to me." Leaving Loki there, Thor went back to pick up their bags. "I see more than you give me credit for." Pausing in the doorway of the room, Thor said, "I'll have to remember to thank Mother, for forcing you to come. You've been such a merry presence, every step of the way."

Thor said nothing more, waiting. Finally, Loki let out a long breath. "Fine," he said. "It was more diverting than I'd given them credit for, alright?"

Thor came back across the room and grinned at him over the back of the couch. "It's not a full-fledged apology," he decided, "but I'll accept it." He dropped Loki's bag onto his stomach.

Walking past him, Thor got an idea. He said, "It's a pleasant time, their 'Christmas.'"

"Quaint," Loki muttered, behind him, "but …pleasant, I suppose."

Turning, Thor appraised him. "You're right," he said, "They need to be shown their place. You're absolutely right."

Worry flickered across Loki's face, "Thor…"

"Stark won't think so much of his 'Christmas' after seeing Asgardian Jol," Thor grinned.

"I want _nothing_ to do with this." Loki said.

"And what with our new alliance with Midgard, Father's sure to think it's a fine idea."

Loki's expression went dry. "You can't be serious."

Thor grinned at him, "I'll ask Stark."

Thor laughed to himself as he fled, Loki's protests a hailstorm behind him.


	29. Epilogue II - Frankinsence

**I.**

Dr. Stephen Strange,

Thank you for the gloves. They are probably the nicest pair I have ever received. And you are absolutely right, they do come in handy on my bike in the cold. I didn't realize how much I was putting up with.

It was a pleasure to spend time with you outside of work.

Sincerely,

Steven Rogers

December 29

 **II.**

Clint,

I think there may be a joke, and I'm pretty sure I don't get it. I'm not sure what the purpose of an Eastern Ornamented Egg Cup might be. However, it is pleasant to look at, and I thank you for thinking of me.

-Steve

December 29

 **III.**

Mrs. Barton and Barton children,

It was wonderful to see all of you for Christmas this year and to have the chance to get to know each of you better. I hope to see all of you more throughout the upcoming year.

The scarf you chose for me is warm and soft. I was in dire need of a new one, and the colors are striking. I'm not sure what Slitherin means, but Sam assures me I'll understand after I read the Harry Potter books. He told me they were familiar to your entire family. Perhaps in the new year we could read them together.

Regardless, I will think of all of you every time I wear it.

Sincerely,

Steve Rogers,

Captain America

December 29

 **IV.**

Bruce,

I'm impressed that after all this time you remembered my love for that little café by Avengers' Tower. Your present of mug and gift card was thoughtful. And I don't know if you meant it this way, but you're right. I should get out more. You are both an insightful doctor, and a kind friend. I'm honored to call myself your teammate.

Sincerely,

Steve

December 29

 **V.**

Loki,

If you've got anything, it's a sense of humor. And I ought to expect no less. Mein Kamft was not a book I ever anticipated receiving.

I find myself wondering as I type this if you'd intended it as a call to consider the point of view of my opponent, and in a way, you're not wrong. I cannot condone the theft of people's lives or freedom under any circumstances, but perhaps I can be more understanding in lesser matters.

We never really talked much before these two weeks, but I want you to know that I'm glad you turned over a new leaf. You're an invaluable member of our team. I hope we can continue to talk in less life-threatening conditions, and perhaps begin to understand one another better.

Sincerely,

Steve Rogers

December 29

 **VI.**

Thor,

I don't know how to break it to you, Buddy, so I'm just going to say it.

Underwear – regardless of style or color – isn't really considered an appropriate gift from one friend to another here on Earth.

Not that I don't appreciate the thought.

That being said, it was wonderful to see you for such an extended time outside of the threat of a world-wide catastrophe. And I'm glad you brought your brother. It was nice to have the chance to get to know both of you better.

Here's hoping the year to come will offer us more opportunities to get together outside of work.

Sincerely,

Steve Rogers

December 29

 **VII.**

Wanda,

The pencils I received from you are possibly the nicest I have ever had. I have to admit, I've let my drawing slide these past years, and I've been meaning to get back to it. Which such nice tools in my possession, it would be hard to keep putting it off. Thank you.

On a side note, it was nice to see you interact with the Barton children this Christmas. I hope you don't think it forward of me, but I've been looking out for you ever since you joined the team. I don't know if I've seen you happier. I was glad to hear that you'll be spending some time with them. The Bartons are good people, Wanda. You can trust them. I'd stake my life on that. They'll take good care of you.

I know what it's like to feel alone in a world that has no one like you in it. If you ever need a place to go, or someone to talk to, all you have to do is call. You have my number.

Sincerely,

Steve

December 29

 **VIII.**

Natasha,

I have a feeling you and Wanda were in cahoots. (Which is nice. I think she could use it.) I haven't had a proper sketchbook to call my own in decades. I'm starting to think maybe you girls are trying to get me a hobby. It's nice to know someone like you has my back, Nat. I'm honored. And I have been meaning to get back to drawing, maybe find a part of the person I used to be, pre-serum, you know? I get antsy without something to do on the boring days. And you know how much we like boring days.

Here's hoping there are more of those days in the future.

And thank you, again, for the sketchbook. I'll do my best to put it to good use.

P.S. I have noticed all the little things you're doing for Wanda. I know why you gave up your place with Barton this year, and it wasn't for Tony – or at least not just for him. I really appreciate what you're doing for her. She needs a friend, Natasha, and I don't think I can be that for her the way you can. In case no one else says anything, I wanted to thank you for that too. You hold our team together, maybe more than anyone else. I just wanted you to know that I see it, and how important it is to our team.

I'm honored to call you my teammate, Nat. And more than that, my friend.

Sincerely,

Steve

December 29

 **IX.**

Scott,

Thank you for the movie (?) Band of Brothers. It will be interesting for me to see the War through other eyes. I have not watched it yet. I was thinking perhaps we might watch it together sometime.

It was nice to spend some time together these past weeks. I hope we can see more of each other outside of 'work' in the year to come.

Sincerely,

Steve Rogers,

Captain America

December 29

 **X.**

Sam,

I'm not sure where I am going to find the time to go through the stack of books, movies, and compact discs you've "passed on" to me. I knew there was a lot I had to catch up on. Looking at this pile, I'm beginning to realize that I had no real idea how much.

Thank you, just the same. You should come over some time and we'll go through it together. I'm sure I'll find it enlightening, if nothing else. Maybe I'll begin to understand some of Stark's references. Maybe I'll start finding out who I am, really, in this new world. It feels so far away from the one I knew.

You've been a great friend to me, from the moment I met you, Sam. I really appreciate that.

-Steve

December 29

P.S. Speaking of Stark, when he saw the gifts Wanda and Nat gave me (pencils and a sketchbook, respectively), he laughed and said something about a 'Titanic'? and he made some joke about French girls. Is there something I should know about that?

 **XI.**

Ms. Potts,

Things have always been awkward for me – even before the War – at Christmastime. I never really knew where to go, or had anyone besides Buck to go there with. I didn't have that experience this time around. Being surrounded by the team and their families has felt more like home than anything I've felt in a long time. This was probably the best Christmas I have spent, and it was all thanks to you. It was Tony's idea, but you are the one who made it possible. I know it wasn't your idea of a perfect holiday and that we made it stressful at times, but your graciousness and hospitality never once wavered. You are a wonder.

It's stiff and awkward, but I've never been good with words, and I've never really known how to talk to a woman. For that I apologize. What I mean to do, is to thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for all the sacrifices you make for us. I know it can't be easy. You're an invaluable member of our team.

Sincerely,

Steve Rogers

December 29

 **XII.**

Tony,

The things you came up with for all of us are nothing short of awe-inspiring. Looking them all over, I could only think back to when Buck dragged me to your dad's expo. I remember he had – almost – managed to invent a flying car. I don't see anything like that here, but there's that same sense of wonder.

And generosity. You don't have to do everything you do for us. I know we don't always see eye-to-eye about everything Tony, but I have come to see the depth of your commitment to the common good. And even if we can't always agree on how to achieve it, I will always respect and admire that in you.

You didn't have to invite us all over for Christmas. And to tell you the truth, when I first got your invitation I had my doubts. I was wrong. And, yes, you have that in writing. I can say with complete honesty that I have not had a better Christmas since before the War. I'd come to dread holidays. I don't think I will any longer, thanks to you.

I know all that's going to come back and bite me in the ass, but there it is all the same. Thank you. And I know you might not want to hear this, but I knew your dad during the War. He'd be proud of you, Tony. He'd want you to know that.

-Steve

December 29


	30. Epilogue III - Myrrh

"Tony!" Pepper's voice floated from the next room. "We should go."

Tony didn't turn his head. "…one second…" he said. "I think…"

He let himself begin to believe, for one, elated moment, that it might actually be gone. He'd almost let himself relax, when he thought he heard something. Then he heard it again. Throwing his hands down, Tony swore.

"You know what we agreed about damage to the Tower, Tony." Pepper's heels clicked against the floor in the next room.

"Yep," Tony scrubbed his hand through his hair, aiming at a nonchalance he was not achieving. "I remember."

"Just leave him alone."

"Just –" Tony pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He started into the next room. "Pepper, he's been _sitting_ in _my air ducts_ , playing the djembe _you_ brought him in that _tiny little suit_ for _hours_. And you just want me to leave him alone?"

The sound of the tiny drum pounded through the room like the pulse of some huge animal. Tony searched the room for a broom handle or something vaguely rock-shaped and settled with jumping up on the tabletop and banging the flat of his hand against the ceiling. "Party's over, Lang!" he shouted.

The pounding did not stop. It only intensified. Then it slowed to a recognizable rhythm.

A voice was echoing in accompaniment. Tony stared at the ceiling in dawning horror.

 _Why can't we be friends?_

 _Why can't we be friends?_

 _Why can't we be friends?_

 _Why can't we be friends?_

"That's it." He beckoned Pepper, "Toss me the Raid. Loki was right, that son of a bitch."

"Tony," Pepper made no move towards the bug spray.

"You know, I knew he was gonna end up being right about that. I just didn't want to give him the satisfaction."

She stood in the middle of the room, her hands in front of her, holding a sweatshirt. When he looked at her, she was trying to hide a smile. Tony didn't get that.

"You think this is _funny_?" he demanded. "How about if _I_ sat in the ducts, drunk off _my_ ass, playing kazoo? Is it funny _then_?"

"You're a grown man, Tony. Get down."

"Irrelevant. Just because he's tiny doesn't mean he's not grown man. Toss me the Raid."

Resolute, Pepper did not move. "I don't think I'll be able to hear him from outside," she said.

"I'm not leaving _him_ ," Tony snapped, "in _my_ Tower. You know what?" he clapped his hands together and jumped down. "I'm calling an exterminator."

Pepper's voice floated behind him. "I'm leaving in ten minutes, whether you're there or not."

He didn't break stride. "I'll be there." Then, "Friday?"

"Yeah, Boss?"

"Get me an exterminator. ASAP. I've got places to be."

"Are you sure an exterminator is the right move?" Friday asked.

"Oh yeah. You hear that, Lang?" Tony slapped the wall. "It is time to _go home_."

Behind him, Pepper sighed. "I'll be in the car."

* * *

 **The End**


End file.
